


Dance Among the Lotus

by whyntir



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Soul Eater
Genre: Accidental Death, Action, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward First Chapter, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood Magic, Boarding School, Bodyswap, Broken Engagement, Broken Families, Brother Feels, Character Death, Consensual Mind Break, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark Past, Dead Villain, Double Life, Dubious Morality, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemy to Ally, Established Relationship, Family Issues, First Writing after nearly Two Years, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Half-Siblings, Hate Speech, Human Breeding, Human Sacrifice, Idealist War, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Loss of Trust, Love Triangles, Magic-Users, Magical Realism, Male Friendship, Mental Breakdown, Moving In Together, Multiple Relationships, My First Fanfic in a Long Time, Obsessive Behavior, Orphans, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Soulmates, Pseudo-Incest, Rebels, Reincarnation, Resurrection, Revenge, Romantic Friendship, School Uniforms, Secrets, Shapeshifting, Sibling Rivalry, Slow Build, Soul Bond, Soul Death, Spirit Host, Spirit World, Street Rats, Symbiotic Relationship, Symbolism, Teaching, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Teambuilding, Teen Angst, Teenage Drama, Teenagers, Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Tension, Weapons, Witch Curses, Witch Hunters, Worldbuilding, Young Teacher, divine intervention, eternal youth, people change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyntir/pseuds/whyntir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ludwig is a bitter teenager, growing up alone in the world. His parents died before he got to know them, only to be ignored by his grandfather who had to deal with his troublesome older brother.<br/>Feliciano doesn't know what its like to have a family, having been found on the steps of a church. He wants to believe he's finally found a place to belong, if only he wasn't so useless.<br/>Alfred and Matthew are half-brothers, trying to pretend to be family while rivaling against each other. One loved and spoilt, the other neglected and forgotten.<br/>Francis lives his life as a lie, wearing a mask of allure and optimism, he hides a bitter heart behind a face of smiles, swearing vengeance with a tongue spouting praise.<br/>Ivan is a sheltered boy, having never had contact outside of his two sisters. Despite the small world he's lived in, secrets lie in his own home.<br/>Arthur lives behind walls, distrusting of others, he shoves anyone away with a biting personality, all in the hopes to save them, and maybe himself.<br/>All life is connected. Call it coincidence or fate, all things will make sense when the pieces are put together with every step they take, inside the SWMA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arc Zero: Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Waving Flag](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/121695) by Whyntir. 



_Pitching forward, he just kept from falling into the darkness, arms flailing to keep his balance as he swallowed his voice. An ominous feeling poisoned the cold, musty air; reluctant to breathe too deep, he resorted to quick and shallow gasps. He had walked down this hallway too many times, unable to see his own feet as the ground heaved and fell away in sporadic dips and curves. Sometimes it was rough, like gravel or sand, others smooth like a riverbed of rock. It never felt exactly the same, making him wonder if he actually was making progress, or perhaps his mind randomly fabricated these scenarios and he was just walking the same path all over again._

_Wrapping one arm around himself for the warmth, the other held out blindly in front of him, his bare feet making no noise despite the dull pain that pulsed up his leg. He had read that questioning a dream could cause it to change, but this dream had persisted. So long he didn't remember if he had ever walked in on his own, or was merely left in this frightening abyss on a whim of his unconscious fancy. A shuddering gasp escaped numb lips, the ground falling away once more, but this time he was too cold to react quick enough._

_Ironic that he noted the change in the floor before the pain as his arm skid over what he could only guess was some kind of brick. It was perfectly shaped, but the material had corroded to a porous exterior that shredded flesh. He lay there momentarily, silently writhing in agony and willing the pain away, teeth grinding together as he did so._

_"You're clumsier than I'd have imagined."_

_He instantly went numb; never had there been another voice than his own echoing off the unseen walls. Scrambling upright, holding his wounded arm still as a warm fluid seeped through the torn sleeve and trickled between trembling fingers. He twisted his head around in a futile attempt to see, but the darkness had not lightened even a bit._

_"Scared?" the voice echoed again, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere. The tone of amusement was impossible to miss._

_"Who are you?"_

_Was that really his voice?_

_"Now I'm offended. After what we've been through."_

_He turned in the corridor, backing up to where he expected a wall, not that it would honestly do him any good. Suddenly a freezing pressure grabbed his shoulders, what he believed to be nails digging into his shoulder blades. "I wouldn't have expected you to forget me."_

_The voice was right by his ear, he could feel what must have been breath against his cheek, but it was cold. So cold. His teeth instinctively started chattering to try and keep warm. The hands pulling him closer, slowly dragging him towards that freezing being. The cold hands starting to burn from their intensity. He pulled away sharply, the needle-like punctures lacerating his shoulders._

_He fell backwards_

_Falling._

_He kept falling._

* * *

Ludwig jolted awake, shuddering in a cold sweat. Phantom pain throbbed through his back and arm, blue eyes staring almost sightless as he numbly counted to ten, he slowly regained his bearings. Glancing around, the common room was all but abandoned, as he had decided to sleep in one of the chairs instead of joining the others in the overnight rooms. His dark green windbreaker having fallen to the floor when he had so violently woken up, and the black tank top he had worn underneath was drenched in a cold sweat Breathing in deep, Ludwig reached over to grab his jacket only to have stars cross his vision and his stomach heave. Leaving the article, he ran towards the door.

* * *

 

The morning sun gently rose from the waves, warming his cheeks in the pale glow as he leaned over the edge of the boat. Ivan had always wondered what it was like to be on a boat, and he found the experience quite relaxing; the thick salty air on his tongue, the gentle rocking of the crests as they ebbed and rolled, like bear cubs playing in the spring field. And yet, it was as desolate as the dead of winter.

  
The sounds of retching startled the Russian from his thoughts. It was bound to happen, he supposed, but after being on the water the last sixteen hours, he thought it a little strange for someone to spontaneously come down with seasickness. “Pardon me?” he called, wandering away from his sightseeing. As he rounded the corner, he saw a tall blonde doubled over the side, convulsing as his body tried to expel something it didn’t have. Sweat-dampened locks covered the other boy’s eyes as he hung there, apparently waiting for the nausea to pass. His mouth gaping as though to catch a fish, saliva and bile coating pale lips. Ivan didn’t know why, but the way the boy held to the rail interested him; the way he clutched it to the point of his knuckles turning white, and how his right thumb kept sliding over his own fingers, as though for reassurance.

“Pardon me, but are you okay?”

* * *

 

With nothing in his stomach, the only thing to come up was bitter acid as he heaved over the side of the ferry. After a few more attempts, his body surrendered, but his mind was still reeling. It had felt so real; the pain but, now that it began to wear off, it faded away almost entirely. Staring down into the water as he tried to catch his breath, Ludwig found himself lost in that damned dream, the deep blue of the ocean darkening, growing black, extending forever.

  
“Pardon me, but are you okay?”

  
Ludwig blinked, the water washing by as though nothing had happened. Because nothing had happened. Gritting his teeth before spitting out the acid coating his mouth, the German sighed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Yeah,” he muttered, sparing a glance to the other teen. He was a baby giant, in both size and appearance. A good five inches over Ludwig’s head, but with a chubby face sporting child-like concern. It was almost unnerving the way those violet eyes seemed to see right through him.

  
“Did you eat something spoiled?” he prodded, bending down almost mockingly to see Ludwig’s face, really encroaching upon his personal space.

  
“Sure, maybe.”

  
The blonde scowled, though since he wasn’t looking at him, Ivan guessed it was not at anything in particular. Perhaps just the taste in his mouth. “I am Ivan, and you do not need to worry, you will have time to rest your tummy soon.”

  
“Uh . . . Ludwig. What-?” He didn’t even finish the sentence before Ivan turned away from him, looking to the front of the ferry at the island, just meters ahead.

  
Waves crashed against stone cliffs laced with roots knotting their way through the earth. The leaves were a pale pink, showering like a gentle rain, but in no way did they look bare or sparse. Running almost directly centre, a river ran off into the ocean as a waterfall, billowing a small haze of mist that made it seem as though the island were floating upon the clouds. Mainland birds could be seen swooping through the branches, chasing one another in their spring games, uninterrupted even as the foghorn blared, announcing their arrival.

* * *

 

“How many times do I have to say focus!”

  
Feliciano gasped, staggering backwards before tripping over his own feet, collapsing in the down-trodden grass, his face flushed and glistening in the morning sun. Perhaps he could rest for a moment, his body felt so drained and he hadn’t even had a chance to eat breakfast before rushing out here, a fact he was sorely beginning to regret.

Chestnut eyes closing peacefully as the Italian tried to soak in as much sun as he could, he was just settling in to get comfy when a dark shadow loomed over him. Cracking his lids open hesitantly, braced for a strict tongue-lashing by the Academy’s most advanced teacher, he was mildly surprised to see the white-haired man looking down at him with a smile of sorts.

  
“Veh . . . so tiring. Can’t we take a little siesta Instructor Beilschmidt?” he mewled hopefully, taking advantage of the other’s seemingly good mood.

  
Gilbert was the youngest teacher at the academy, specializing in only Weapon tactics due to his specific skills that had him renown through the school. Despite his young features and generally carefree personality, he was torturous to learn under and many students opted out of his classes, giving the albino time to teach those who stayed on a more personalized basis. Even the Italian had flaked after the first class, preferring Instructor Karpusi’s more accommodating style, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to learn anything new in those classes.

  
“As good as that sounds, I think we should just call it quits for today,” the German smirked, holding a hand out to Feliciano who had to fight the urge to frown at it. “Don’t give me that face,” he scolded playfully, taking the brunette teen’s arm and hauling him up effortlessly, “We’ll keep practicing after you find your Meister, so go wash up.”

  
Staring at his feet before glancing up at the targets surrounding the field, all of them scarred in some way or another, but he couldn’t find one mark made by him. He was the oldest unpaired student in the school, having just turned eighteen the other day and made worse that he had lived within the academy almost all his life. Doubts plagued Feliciano’s mind, it was not uncommon for Weapons, and sometimes even Meisters, to arrive at the academy and leave without ever being paired.

  
“I know what you’re thinking,” Gilbert suddenly spoke sternly, bringing the Italian back from his darkening thoughts, “and I’m going to tell you to stop it. Go back to the dorms and get washed up, you don’t have much time.”

  
“Veh?” Before Feli could ask more, the sound of a not-so-distant foghorn alerted the island. What startled him, however, was the cold chill that creeped up his spine and leaving a bitter taste in his dry mouth, growing stronger by the second. It wasn’t until he felt a flick to his forehead that the feeling faded, not disappeared, but wasn’t as profound as before. Blinking, he stared at the albino who had pushed himself into the Italian’s personal bubble, frowning at what seemed to be the younger male’s stalling, though the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth and a knowing understanding in his crimson eyes gave him away.

  
“Just go Feli, I’ll see you at orientation. And hurry.”

  
“Ah, y-yes Instructor Beilschmidt.” Giving a partial salute, Feliciano opted for a meandering jog back to his dorm. The cold feeling was his own dread rearing up on him, that made the most sense. Looking up at the sky between the sakura tree branches, sparrows flitted in and out of sight, their love songs overlapping in an eager chorus as they chased prospective mates who met their fancy. Large butterflies in vibrant shades of blues, yellows and orange glided from flower to flower, elegantly skimming the morning air, unafraid at his approach. It was as though he belonged in this place, the same feeling he had when he had first arrived as a small child. His slow pace reduced to a stop on the grassy path, his eyes too blurred to admire the beauty of what he had always called his home.

  
“If,” he paused with a shuddering sigh before trying again, “If I’m still unpaired after this, I’m dropping out.” Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants, he shuffled along almost reluctant, sniffling as he cried openly to no one.

* * *

 

The distant moan of a boat’s foghorn was hardly enough to wake up Alfred F. Jones as the teen lay sprawled over his mattress, arms thrown haphazardly over his head as one leg hung off the mattress as he had kicked his blankets off to the bottom of the bed. Matthew, on the other hand, had been far too anxious to sleep so well, frowning at the way his brother could make a mess even while unconscious. A mug of coffee in his hands, the violet-eyed Canadian stared out the window of the dorm, the sun having just settled itself in the sky, taking its time in clearing the mist that shrouded the island come nightfall, through the haze, he could just barely make out the dock and ferry pulling up to port. Even though the deck appeared full of eager newcomers, none of them really stood out from this distance.

  
‘It’s not like I’ll be noticed. I never am,’ he thought bitterly, sipping the bitter drink as he turned to get breakfast ready. Alfred never woke up before midday, and the orientation wasn’t until noon, not that there was any reason to rush. Every other ceremony, it was as though Matthew was completely invisible, if not for Alfred, no one would have noticed him. Then those that did often confused them. Or rather, Alfred was “Alfred” and Matthew was “The Other Alfred”.

  
Putting down the mug to search through the cabinets of the joint kitchen, a strange sensation ran up the older teen’s spine. It was a gentle warmth that left behind a sort of tingling sensation, and not something he had ever felt before. The more he focused on it, however, the stronger it became, like a person running their fingers up his back.

  
_“OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS!?”_

  
Being pulled out of the one peaceful moment Matthew had experienced all morning, he swung around, effectively throwing the glass and half-drank coffee across the room where it shattered against the wood floor. “Alfred? Alfred what’s wrong?!” Running back to the bedroom, his big brother instincts kicking in despite himself.

  
Alfred in his bed, tangled in the sheets as he seemed to be swatting himself, a panic in his eyes. “Mattie! Jesus Christ, I’m being eaten alive! Save me!”

  
Matthew stared at his half-brother, all panic gone from him and replaced with annoyance. “Eaten alive by what?”

  
“Ants! Oh man, help me here Mattie! Don’t just stare at me!”

  
Alfred continued thrashing before he rolled too far and over the edge of the bed with a heavy thud and groan. “I was just in here, there isn’t an ant on you. And when the neighbour asks-.”

  
_“Alfred fucking Jones! I’ll kick your bloody arse!!”_ a voice screamed from under the floorboards in a slurred British accent.

  
“I’ll leave it at that then,” Matthew whispered, tiptoeing out of the room as Alfred sat there in his sheets, “You can take Arthur his breakfast.”

* * *

 

“You really are a stubborn fool.”

  
Kiku sat on one of the window ledges,, every one facing each of the four corners, allowing the light to shine through as though the tower itself were transparent. Below, the only movement came from the dock and the courtyard; new students joining the generations before them as their seniors welcomed them. Sadiq was below, organizing the finishing touches for the orientation ceremony and Hercules was greeting the new arrivals. At one time, he had done both jobs with joy but, as his health declined, he was forced to stay in his tower. Glancing over his shoulder, a weary smile strained his features, his arms wrapped around his torso almost as though he were in pain, his fingers clutching at the white silk that made up his robe. “It is a flaw, I’m afraid, that I haven’t been able to fix.”

  
Yao sighed, placing the folded black yukata on the bed before crossing his arms within the sleeves of the red robe he wore, standing to the side of the window and looking out at what had the other so engrossed. “This year’s students will be more challenging. Many are orphaned or never taught how to actually control their powers, especially the Meisters.”

  
“That is unfortunate. I received word back from Elizabeta-san, however. She will be delayed, but confirmed her arrival within the week.”

  
The Chinese man nodded, more to himself, but was more focused on Kiku. He didn’t look any older than the day they met, though perhaps more tired and pale. Perhaps he had even lost weight, though it had been such a long and progressive process, Yao couldn’t be quite sure. With a sigh, he reached out to the smaller man, easing him off from his perch. “Come, I will dress you.”

  
There was no response, he hesitated a moment, but as he lifted Kiku to his own feet, Yao was met with no resistance and slowly walked the Japanese man to his bed so as to hold it for support. There had been a time when Yao had honestly thought time had stood still for them, that despite everything they had lost, they would always have each other. As his slender fingers pulled at the knot of the obi and the fabric fell away, he stood behind Kiku so the other would not have to see the despair clouding his eyes. The knotted scar upon his right shoulder had healed long ago, but stemming from it, black veins laced his torso, over his hips and buttocks and reaching over his upper thighs and forearms. A twinge of irrational anger tugged at Yao as he noted the spiderweb had continued to grow, tendrils creeping their way up Kiku’s neck.

  
“Yao, I’m becoming cold.”

  
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to irritate it any more than I need to,” he sighed, finally easing the clothing off before he began the laborious task of redressing. It had slowly taken away Kiku’s warmth, energy and comfort, even with the smooth silk, he could feel the other wince under his touch, drawing out a process that should have been effortlessly quick. All the while, Kiku’s dark eyes were drawn to the middle of the room to the tranquil surface of a pond that seemed to emit its own glow, despite the room being flooded with light, two lotus flowers swaying on the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to keep as few Author Notes as possible, but I just wanted to thank all my previous readers, whether they return or not. Truly, it is the work of you all that made this rewrite, finally, a possibility. As I wrote these two chapters, I had all your reviews opened on the other half of the screen, all your kind words cheering me on, even though they may be years old and some of you may never return. I understand this rewrite is on the darker side compared to the original, but I hope you will still enjoy it. As of now, this story is slotted for at least 38 chapters, but I am certain there will be more than that. This story will be finished, even if it takes several years.


	2. 0.02 The Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ludwig attempts to settle in only to find he is lost at sea.

“ _Welcome to the Soul Weapon Meister Academy. The Keeper thanks you for accepting our invitation to attend our school. You have all had a tiring journey to be here, and I’m sure you’d all want a better sleep on a bed that doesn’t rock itself. If you follow the map of the school that came with your acceptance letters and stay to the main roads, you should find your dorms quite easily, all paths lead back to the main road, only as long as you stay on the path. There will be time for exploring later once you have settled in, but it is easy to get lost in the woods if you don’t know your way around. A special announcement for Meisters, classes are being delayed, take the time to settle in and know your way around the academy. That’s all I got to say right now, so you are dismissed I guess.”_

* * *

 The room looked meticulous, or perhaps it was just the vacancy of it that gave the impression. The bedside table, dresser and chest at the foot of the bed were all empty and spotlessly cleaned out. The bed itself was made up in plain white linens that still smelt of their last washing, which was more than satisfactory for him. Sitting on the edge of the mattress to remove his shoes, Ludwig couldn’t help but look out the window. Being in a third story room was an ironically liberating experience. With the window open, he could appreciate the lack of cars and city air, being replaced by the distant grumble of crashing waves and a lazy ocean breeze. The apartment he had been assigned faced towards the looming tower at the centre of the island and the main school of the academy. Behind his particular building, excited voices drifted up to him, as well as the rhythmic thump of what he assumed was a ball, a small park occupying the space between his block and the next.

If he was to be completely honest, everything still felt surreal. Ludwig had thought that maybe once he had stepped off the boat, it would sink in more, but instead he just felt stranger. It was a island of nothing but kids, even the adults looked no older than their mid to late twenties, and there weren’t a lot of them. Besides the crew of the boat, only the supposed teacher at the docks had any sense of age to him, looking perpetually tired, not even bothering to put on a smile for the new students. Not that he seemed strict, rather the exact opposite; he looked like he couldn’t have cared less, but even then he still looked under thirty.

The front door to the apartment squeaked open, dragging him from his mind. He made a mental note to look into oiling the hinges as a person with shoulder-length champagne blonde hair entered. For a solid minute, he couldn’t tell if the person was male or female; they had a slender, almost delicate build and their longer hair stylishly, if not effeminately, waved and curled flipping up where it rested on slightly too-broad shoulders for a woman. They were also quite tall, no less than five-nine as he compared their height to the doorway. They looked away from him to the other open room across the flat before their eyes met. The dusting of stubble along the angled jawline was more than enough to relax the tension Ludwig didn’t know he was holding. The idea of a coed dorm was actually a little unnerving. Aside from his aunt, he had only ever been surrounded by men and wouldn’t even know where to start with a female of his age group.

Standing, Ludwig left “his” room, holding a hand out to the blonde stranger who had taken up staring at him curiously. Not the subtle type. “I’m Ludwig Beilschmidt, I hope you don’t mind that I already took a room before you arrived.”

The blonde blinked before a smooth smile graced his features. Perhaps the stranger was attempting charm, but he really only came off as weird. He took Ludwig’s hand in a firm shake, his other hand making sure the strap of his bag didn’t take the opportunity to slide off his arm. “Francis Bonnefoy. And not at all, I think I prefer the ocean scenery myself.”

Beilschmidt was a well known name among certain circles, specifically Weapons, but it was not uncommon for Meisters to take an interest in the unusually talented. This blonde, however, was just as new as himself to the academy. If anything, the other looked even more at a loss than he did himself. Curiosity was something Francis was not known for handling well. As their hands parted, he attempted his most winning smile, “Pardon me, but did you have a family member who also attended the academy?” The darkness that clouded over Ludwig’s face was almost frightening as a withering scowl settled on his features. Francis took an actual step back to make space between them, unsure of what the German boy would do, or even why he was upset. Holding his hands up in innocent surrender, Francis stuttered, “I-I apologize if it was something you’d rather not talk about, I just thought I had heard the name before. B-Beilschmidt that is.”

“Its not your fault,” the taller teen muttered, turning his glare away, but the smouldering _hatred_ in his eyes just seemed to burn brighter as he let out his silent fury on the wood panels of the floor. “I wouldn’t know anything about that person.”

‘ _Well that’s obviously not true,’_ Francis thought to himself nervously, his smile having faded to a wary half-grin. It was obviously not a good time to point out how contradictory the German's statements and actions were, but perhaps it was some sort of family rivalry, or perhaps there were some unrealistic expectations. Whatever the case, Francis decided against trying to pry further. “Well, I'll go ahead and unpack what I have. You haven't gotten started either from the looks of things. Afterwards want a tour of the school?”

Blue-grey met majorelle for a moment in mid-turn as the German made to return to his room, but he didn't bother to stop, rather talking with his back turned to the Frenchman. “Was there something in that welcome speech I missed? I figured if we were going to explore, it'd be more or less on our own.” Ludwig hadn't come with much. Save for two extra shirts, a pair of sweats and several pairs of socks and undergarments, along with a tooth brush he had yet to remove from the packaging and a pair of reading glasses, he had nothing else to decorate his room with. The only shoes he had were the on his feet and he had never been the type to vandalize his room for the sake of individuality.

“We are,” the other teen called back, having already reached his room and pulling out stacks of clothing and sorting through them on the bed, “But my parents used to attend the school and I came with them once to a reunion of sorts. I took a tour of my own, got lost in the process, but there is nothing really dangerous on the island. Unless you jump off or something. To be honest, the place hasn't changed one bit since then. There are some rumours that the Keeper is actually part of the island and that is why it seems like time stands still.”

“Did you also hear that from your parents?” Ludwig asked, neatly placing his things into the bedside drawers. Gossip wasn't something he was particularly fond of, but listening to Francis, even the fact that the other boy knew of his last name, it was obvious Ludwig was outside of the regular circles. He had never fit in at his old school, or even in his aunt's home, mainly due to the circumstances of his family, but he had never had any contact with others like him, and especially not his parents.

“No, but there are places you can go to talk to people who have left the academy on the internet. After my parents died, that was what mostly kept me sane. You'd think after everything we've done for them, people would accept our kind more.” The last sentence was laced with such bitterness, Ludwig looked across the dorm to see if Francis was alright. Despite the heavy topics he talked about, the Frenchman looked as calm as ever, the only sign of irritation being in his voice, and even then, it was much more subdued than Ludwig could have hoped to manage.

Changing into another tank top and switching out his hunter green cargo pants for his grey sweats, moving out of sight of the door to do so. There was a hamper inside each room, so he assumed maids or some equivalent would clear their messes away when they weren't around. “To be honest, I don't really know anything you're talking about. My parents died when I was two, I don't have any sort of memory of them. I was raised by my grandfather for a few years until he passed away and then lived with my father's sister since. She had nothing to do with my parents or the academy. She was just normal, I guess.”

Stepping out of his room into the common between the two bedrooms, he took the time to get an idea of how everything looked. A short couch took up a wall with a chair facing towards a small, round coffee table. There were no electronics to be found save for the two lamps on either side of the common and one in each room. A little stove sat behind a high counter and a few cupboards hung on the back wall to house dining ware, a kettle hung from a hook over the sink and a small pantry lay open with some supplies.

“Is that so?” Francis spoke behind him, having also changed his clothes from the wrinkled white button up and slacks to a light blue Oxford style shirt, the top two and last buttons left undone in a casual manner and the sleeves neatly rolled to above his elbow. The slacks, which hadn't looked particularly dressy, actually reminding Ludwig of his own private school's uniform, were replaced with black jeans that hugged rather tightly to the teen's legs, gathering behind his knees and around his ankles before disappearing into black and blue hi-top trainers. Ludwig determined the Frenchman was neither practical or shy about his looks. “I'm sorry to hear about your parents, and grandfather. I wish I could say stuff like that is rare for people like us, but I was in foster care for the better part of a decade after the incident. Anyway,” Francis opened the squeaky door again, the two of them wincing at the sound. Ludwig stifled a rueful smile as they stepped out into the hall, leaving the door to close on its own. Perhaps the two of them could get along.

“Let's start with what you do know,” Francis encouraged, the streets weren't deserted, rather most of the faces they came across were other people from the boat, the younger kids had seemingly vanished, to which his room mate had explained that they were already having an orientation.

Beside him, Ludwig sighed, looking up at the trees overhead, their branches reaching out to each other like hands, touching, but just out of reach. “I know there are two types of manipulators, those being Weapons and Meisters. They both attend the Academy, but Weapons seem to have a degree of favouritism. Neither class is generally accepted by non-manipulators.”

Francis chuckled to himself, almost daunted by how little the German boy knew. “At least you have the bare bones to work with. Do you know about the Keeper or the Guardians?” The blank blue eyes staring back at him answered the question easily enough. When Ludwig had said he was sheltered, Francis had no clue that he was _this_ sheltered. “It's kind of a legend now, but you know about the Magic Empire, right?”

The blonde's eyes lit up in recognition of the term. “It was an ancient civilization that started under the rule of an unknown magic user who had somehow united the different factions. It caused world wide panic as the empire was brutal towards those who remained in captured lands. The Empire got so large it took up virtually all of medieval Europe and Asia, reaching as far out to Japan, but then it suddenly collapsed into anarchy and the Magic Factions began fighting amongst themselves.”

“You went to a private school,” Francis smiled smugly as he stuffed his hands into his back pockets, being roomier than the ones in the front. “Yeah, most public schools don't go over it in that much detail, but you are basically right. The ruler of the Empire when by the Name of General Winter, and really nothing is known about him. If it wasn't for the Keeper and Guardian Yao, it is certain that the Magic Empire would still be around today.”

“Who is the Keeper? The instructor at the dock talked about him too.”

“The Keeper is the first known Meister in our history, and unlike other Soul Manipulators, it is said the power of life itself flows through him. I'm apt to believe it too, since he lives in that tower.” Francis came to a sudden stop, looking to the centre of the island to the singular spire rising over the rest of the academy and dorms. “He's over a thousand years old. Lots of rumours surround him, of course. He used to come out often and even personally teach classes to new Meisters, but after a while he just sort of retreated into the tower. I don't know if half of them are true, I've never seen him personally, but I have seen Guardian Yao.”

Ludwig watched Francis carefully, feeling as though the other was pulling his leg. These were stories Ludwig had never heard, and were frankly impossible to swallow, but Francis gave no indication that it was at all a joke. Rather, he turned away from the tower and began walking towards the smaller side streets. All of them seemed to merely loop around and eventually lead back to the main pathway, keeping the layout simple and efficient.

* * *

 “On my way to the dorm I overheard that the previous Meister instructor had resigned and left the academy, hence why our orientation and lessons are being postponed. It seems that they're still looking for a replacement or something along those lines,”Francis informed him, apparently being the nosey type, seeming to enjoy knowing things. Ludwig was fairly certain that the Frenchman secretly enjoyed his ignorance, if only to hear himself talk, but Ludwig wasn't the talkative type himself, and found it rather liberating to not have to worry about keeping the conversation going.

“Hopefully the situation will correct itself soon.” This island was not large enough to occupy him for more than a couple days. Earlier Francis had mentioned a library, so maybe that might pass some time.

Francis jumped ahead of him, taking up walking backwards, Ludwig would have chastised him if not for the fact that the walkway was pretty much empty save for the two of them and, secondly, he refused to become his aunt. “It is a bothersome delay. If I remember correctly, there are separate classes for Meisters and Weapons and, once they are deemed proficient in whatever skills they are supposed to know, they are then paired up. Its supposed to be like this spiritual experience, almost like a wedding, you find your 'other half' so to speak. Then the real purpose of the academy comes to light.”

Ludwig barely had a moment to pull a puzzled frown before Francis cut him off. “You don't know? The SWMA isn't just a school, its an anti-magic defence force. The Magic Wars and past 'graduates' of the academy have reduced the number of the Magic Factions, but our goal is to exterminate them. So long as there are Magic Users in the world, the academy will keep training and teaching students like us how to track them down and destroy them.”

The German teen watched his room mate warily, a cold shiver running down his spine. The wicked gleam in Francis' eyes sending a foreboding chill to his bones. Not many things frightened Ludwig but, at that moment, Francis shot to the top of the list.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this massive delay. I had a bit of a psychotic episode (or series of) and then my headphones broke and I never write without my headphones and, yeah. So here is the overdue chapter. I hope I toned down some of the glitchy jumpiness, trying my best to relax about the story. Let it be and carry me where it wants to go, like the good old times. I do want this story to maintain quality but not be so stressful that I literally am too scared to even look at it.
> 
> I do want to apologize for this chapter being mainly exposition, but this is a very intricate story. Like, there are so many plot threads, character arcs, story arcs, twists, histories and so forth. A lot of Arc Zero will be setting the stage for the story and will proceed rather slowly. If you aren't into that, I'm sorry, but if you skip it I seriously think you may be lost when the actual plot kicks in to full swing. And some plot points are being foreshadowed in these last three chapters, so just keep that in mind.


	3. 0.03: A Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keeper's Guardians Assemble and Alfred attempts to ditch Instructor Beilschmidt's class, forcing two brothers to come face-to-face for the first time.

Yao stood by the podium, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear that happened to get caught by the warm breeze swept up by the ocean. The older students that had already passed his instructions were of the first to arrive, loitering towards the back. They were sweet kids, talking, laughing; a small smile relaxed his features as he watched Alfred sneak up behind Arthur, fingers wiggling in anticipation. He never made it, the older boy turned just in time to catch his room mate in the act. Those two were always lively, Alfred ducking behind fellow students as he cried for mercy, and Arthur having none of it. Matthew said something, being too far away and the boy having always been naturally soft-spoken, Yao couldn't make any of it out. Whatever was said, however, had Alfred pulling a pouting bottom lip. Arthur took the opportunity to lunge at his target, but the glasses-wearing boy managed to jump back just in time, laughing loudly that it echoed off the school walls. 

“Too slow Eyebrows! You have to tr-ah!” Alfred was cut off as he tripped over his own feet, tumbling to the ground as his peers broke into laughter. Yao's fingertips covered his mouth as his smile broadened.

“I wish I had a camera,” a rough, albeit playful voice chimed behind him.

Yao didn't bother to turn, willing the smile away before responding, “Have you seen Hercules or Sadiq? One wandered off to find the other and neither have appeared.”

“First of all, don't change the subject. Second, no. They probably got caught up in a wrestling match somewhere.”

Sighing through his nose, Yao remained watching the students, younger children starting to filter in along with some new faces. “I spoke with Kiku earlier. You're being assigned a regular class, your pet project is going to be extra curricular.”

The one behind him scoffed, “You've never appreciated it anyway. You spend months if not years teaching kids how to remain in control and then I come along and bring it all crashing down.”

“As much as you and I differ, Kiku chose you just as much as he did I. He sees your abilities as valuable, even if I may not.” A chilled silence hung between the two of them, not that Yao particularly hated the other, but it was a differing of ideals that questioned Yao's fundamental beliefs on the existence of their kind. Sighing again, the Chinese man turned. While he had gotten dressed for the occasion, the crimson silk of his Changshan rippling like water in the lazy breeze, the sun overhead catching the gold designs sewn into the fabric, the other man seemed to be content with the way he was. Dressed in dark blue cargo pants that tucked into shin-high combat boots and a black tank top, Yao was almost certain the other Guardian did everything just to be contrary.

Arm thrown over the back of his chair and legs crossed knee-to-ankle as he bit into the red skin of an apple, Gilbert Beilschmidt was the youngest of the instructors at the academy, and the first Guardian to be accepted for a long, long time. It was a decision Yao had opposed, but it did little in the end. Beilschmidt was too well known, it would have been arrogant to let him leave the academy given his abilities.

“Hey, Gilbert!” Alfred's voice startled both of them, Yao physically jumping at the volume before turning to look over his shoulder at the teenager's eager face. He had somehow managed to walk right up to the edge of the platform without either teacher noticing, “Since its orientation, are classes cancelled today?”

The albino grinned, swallowing the bite of apple before cupping his free hand by his mouth, “Feli!” Yao saw the brunette's head pop up from the sea of children, his one curly strand of hair bobbing as he did. He looked tired and his uniform was messy. “Alfred wants to know if class is cancelled!” Everyone looked to the oldest boy in the room, his cheeks turning a faint pink from all the attention before he quickly shook his head, ducking back down into his seat.

“You could have been more tactful,” Yao grumbled to himself, not seeing the point in embarrassing one's student.

Gilbert, of course, ignored him, “There's your answer. My lessons aren't really 'required',” the albino lifted his fingers in a way to mirror quotation marks, though at least he didn't look in Yao's direction. The last thing students needed to know was that their teachers didn't get along as well as they should. “So no holidays. I'll see you at the usual time.”

The blonde boy puffed a cheek out in a pout, but didn't protest as he scuffled away, heading towards the middle row where his classmates had seated themselves. Yao narrowed his eyes at Gilbert at the interaction. “He's ready for a partner, let the boy celebrate.”

“Then he can drop the class,” Gilbert sniffed matter-of-factly, “He's a slacker if you don't stay on top of him, but he's also ambitious.”

Yao once more appraised the albino distastefully, “You'll be teaching practical combat along with the new teacher once they arrive. Be sure to work you one-on-one schedules around your new responsibilities.”

Confusion graced Gilbert's face, his nose scrunching up childishly as he tilted his head to one side when understanding illuminated the multi-coloured eyes. He was suddenly upright, mouth open to speak-

“Sorry we're late!” Sadiq's voice interrupted as his heavy boots pounded up the steps, followed by Hercules who looked like he had just been woken up. “Found Sleeping Beauty in the locker rooms. On top of the lockers to be exact.”

“Well, now that we're all here,” Yao clapped his hand, happy to be allowed the distraction, “Let's start the orientation.”

* * *

  _It is said that there was once a time where nothing existed; the world was an infinite abyss that swallowed even time itself. This period was called “Chaos”, and from Chaos came “Gaia”. From Gaia came the world. “She” made the earth, sea, sky, brought life in the forms of plants, animals, finally humans. Once her task was complete, she enveloped the world within herself, taking the form of a river that circles the earth. It was said that Gaia would give power to those who intrigued her, opening their souls to the power that came from her realm. This is the origin of Magic. Her children, however, fractured, some choosing to take their powers from the void of Chaos. These became known as the Witches. Still, Gaia loved all her creation, in their beauty and filth, they amazed and adorned themselves to her. Then there came the day that her creation was threatened. Once more, she meddled within her creation, choosing herself a warrior to maintain a balance. She didn't open their soul to her gifts but, rather, forced a piece of her soul into theirs, to where the distinction between the two was indiscernible._

_Soul Weapons, often shortened to just Weapons, were first recorded during the middle of the Magic Empire's reign. It is believed the first Soul Manipulator was that of this class. Weapons follow a pattern that rarely varies from individuals. The basic definition of a Weapon's ability is to amplify their specific soul wavelengths. Due to this, the action of amplifying causes physical changes to occur within their bodies, switching their human forms with that of their Spirit form, that being in the shape of a weapon. While the weapon is physically similar to that of a regular weapon (consisting of inorganic materials such as wood, fabric or metals) they are still linked to that of the Weapon's human form. The strength of the weapon form is directly correlated to that of the individual's inner strength. Weapons present themselves later than their Meister counterparts, but their powers mature much more quickly and, without proper preparation, result in serious injury of the Weapon and/or those around them. Due to this risk, Weapons attend the academy at much younger ages compared to Meisters._

_Soul Meisters are more versatile and appear in much smaller numbers compared to Weapons. Meisters have the ability to control their souls in the form of abilities wholly unique to their individual make up. Most Meisters do not have a strong enough wavelength to manifest their abilities in a useful manner without the aid of a Weapon. There are a few exceptions, most notably that of the Keeper whose Soul Wavelengths are so powerful they can affect the souls of others around them. Some Meisters have such weak wavelengths that they are overlooked and it could very well be that the Weapon to Meister Ratio is not as uneven as currently believed._

* * *

Ludwig sighed, leaning back from the book as he tried to discreetly crack his back. There was no librarian, not even a real checkout system, much like there were no locks on any of the doors or any physical restrictions that he was used to seeing. Instead it was this ambiguous sense of social norms that almost bordered on anarchy in his mind. Francis had gone back to their dorm, claiming he was hungry and, more or less, leaving Ludwig to navigate the academy on his own. It wasn't that large to be honest, being comprised more of a few large rooms in favour of many smaller ones, which made things much easier on him. From what he had seen, there was the courtyard towards the front, something he had chosen to avoid due to the orientation that was going on and was fortunate to have a guide who knew a back entrance, and four large rooms, though he had only looked into one. Beside each door was a name, which Ludwig assumed had to have been the teacher, or teachers as one had two names scrawled across the template. Instructors Adnan and Karpusi, Instructor Karpusi, Instructor Wang, the last had been blanked, the slate having been removed.

As he had rounded the corner, the next hall was virtually barren, save for a heavy-looking door with a notice saying _'Do Not Enter'_. It was an old door, older than anything else in the academy he had seen, but it was the only rule he had come across since arriving and he was more than happy to oblige it, continuing down the last hall. There were only two doors, the library and an infirmary with a small bench set against the wall just to the right of the door. It actually looked like a regular infirmary with the silly little posters and reminders how to remain healthy and to get regular check ups. It actually brought a smile to his face and he determined that he might like this school, if only a little bit.

The library was huge, taking up what would normally have been a two-story room, it broke into pathways, catwalks, stairwells and lofts, lined with books and shelves where possible, and where not, windows streamed light in from almost every direction. It was warm, almost homey with the smell of paper and bindings. Some books looked older than the building itself, others seemed not to have even been open yet, and there was everything from history textbooks to children's picture books to be found. Despite his initial thoughts, the particular book he had been reading had not been hard to find, rather, it had virtually found him. He had pulled out another book to look into its contents, only to have jostled a rather haphazardly stacked tower of books when the volume fumbled in his grasp. As he tried to clean his mess, one of the books had fallen open to the page he had just been reading. At least it saved him the trouble of searching, even if he had never been quite interested in folklore. Magic and Weapons and Meisters were anomalies in the world no one could properly explain, apparently they couldn't explain it themselves either, not without relying on some mythology, but the information on Weapons and Meisters was more appropriate, if not even directly answering some questions, even those he hadn't gotten around to asking. He had taken a table on a second floor loft, finding it a bit more private than the lounging area on the ground floor.

* * *

  _Meisters and Weapons exist as symbiotic entities on a separate plane. When it comes to the partnerships between Weapon and Meister, there requires a harmony between their Soul Wavelengths where neither cancels the other out, nor drowns out the other. In the case of Wavelength cancellation, the Meister's ability to physically wield the Weapon will be negated, a barrier will appear between the two, if broken either the Meister, Weapon, or both may be injured. Injuries may range from mild to severe “shocks” that attack the nervous and cardiovascular systems. In some cases, these have resulted in cardiac arrest and internal haemorrhaging. Documented Fatalities: Four._

_If wavelengths are uneven in which one overpowers the other, it can cause anti-social personality disorder, depression, bipolar and even schizophrenia in the weaker member. Universally, a dissociative disorder arises as a means to cope. If a Meister overpowers their weapon, it can cause the weapon's personality to break down and results in an “unnatural” weapon form that may be physically painful for the Weapon. If the Weapon is the stronger of the two, it can reverse the flow of energy back towards the Meister, causing physical pain in what is known as “Soul Rejection”. It should be noted that any mutual Weapon-Meister relationship can become dysfunctional and result in the aforementioned situations._

_In most cases, neither Weapon or Meister will be able to immediately tell who their compatible partner is and, usually, are able to take a variety of potentially compatible partners each, usually left up to the Meister to choose the partner that best suits their tastes and abilities. In rare cases, particularly if the Meister is notably strong, the Weapon will be alerted to them. It is believed this is because their compatibility is so natural that the energy passes through them effortlessly, being expelled in various ways, most often as-_

* * *

The door suddenly flew open as a teen with unruly blonde hair exploded into the room, sky blue eyes darting around the room behind square-rimmed glasses before a grin broke on his face, apparently finding something to his liking. Ludwig was certain he hadn't been noticed as the blonde weaved through the bookshelves towards some darker corners. He wore the common uniform found at the academy; blue plaid slacks, a beige sleeveless vest over a white buttoned up shirt and his tie; let loose instead of being pinned down as he darted through the maze of shelves, apparently trying to get himself lost before ducking behind a neglected pile of books. The awkward cowlick at the front of his hair bobbing every time he fidgeted.

“I will have my day off, and no snowman is gonna take it from me,” the boy's voice carried, or perhaps he thought he was being quiet. Whatever the case, Ludwig could hear him quite well. Maybe if he just slipped out, he could take the book with him and read it at the dorm. He slowly pushed the chair back, being as quiet as he could, but apparently not pushing back far enough, his knee hitting the underside of the table with a loud thump causing him to jump in both surprise and pain, sucking in air through clenched teeth. Quickly looking to the other boy, their eyes met in wide-eyed shock.

“Alfred,” the door swung open again, “You're not nearly as quiet as you think you are.”

* * *

Throughout orientation, Alfred scowled at nothing in particular, arms crossed as he sat beside Matthew, making himself smaller in the seat as an ominous aura emanated from him. First he had to wake up way before he ever planned to, then he pissed Arthur off, had to deal with both an angry Arthur and a snarky jerk of a room mate, and then on top of everything else, he still had class! No one else had class! “Man, I thought Gilbert was cool, he's got a massive stick up his butt,” he grumbled darkly, only to get shushed by Matthew who gave him a withering look.

“He's a teacher, like everyone else. Most people drop out because of how severe his style is,” the older boy whispered back, as if he didn't already know this, “Despite how he looks, he doesn't play around.”

“I'm just asking for one day off, one lousy day! He even had me practising during Christmas! Christmas, Mattie!” Alfred hissed, voice pitching a few octaves in his not-yet-fully-mature voice. Being fifteen sucked.

Matthew made to retort when Alfred's head suddenly pitched forward, both of the bespectacled boys turned in unison, Arthur glaring at the younger of the two, his thick brows knotting in agitation, “Belt up you and show some respect.”

Alfred glowered back, but remained silent, folding his arms across his chest. He caught sight of his teacher watching him from the stage, that cocky grin spread across his face at the American's misery. His face heated up with indignation, breathing deep through his nose. This meant war.

Virtually the very second the orientation ended, Alfred was up from his seat, doing his best to sneak away without getting caught. The other, taller, older students were an excellent cover for the teen as he dived into the mob, stepping on some toes and discreetly elbowing a few people out of his way, he made it to the door, wiggling out and making a mad sprint down the halls. He could hide in the infirmary, the doctor was like a natural repellent to Beilschmidt, but that was probably the first place the albino would expect him to go. There was literally no where on campus Gilbert didn't know about, the albino had even entered his room through the window when he slept in one time! If there was any place to possibly get lost, it had to be the library. Taking a sharp turn, he almost ran into the door, throwing his arm out just in time to throw it open without using his face. Maybe he didn't really spend that much time looking, but the place seemed empty, it usually was anyway. The bookshelves created a confusing maze, sometimes twisting around themselves and sending you back to the front desk, other times reaching dead-ends, and other times still going further into the more forgotten sections where books were more stacked than shelved and the lighting didn't quite reach. Fairly sure he had crawled deep enough in, he dove behind a small mountain of paper and ink, twitching with anticipation. This time he was going to have a vacation!

The sudden thump made him jump, the books he hid behind swaying dangerously before he caught them, just managing to keep them upright before looking up, a figure standing at the corner of his vision. The guy looked like Gilbert at first glance, making his blood run cold, but after a bit more staring, he noted the grey sweatpants, not blue cargo, and the slicked back sunny blonde hair a far cry from his teacher's messy silver. They just stayed like that for a while, Alfred confused while the other guy seemed more . . . guilty? But he seriously looked-.  
“Alfred,” the chilling voice of a not-too-pleased Beilschmidt echoed off the tall bookshelves. Ducking back down, Alfred took a second to cover his lips with his finger in a universal, “Be cool and keep quiet” gesture before hiding, even though he was sure the albino could not see him anyway.

* * *

Ludwig twisted to look back at the door. It was too late to even try and pretend he wasn't there, but at the same time, he really didn't want to be involved. As a child, Ludwig read a lot of books, having been alone most of his life. One book he had always thought was quite interesting had been Lewis Carroll's _Through The Looking Glass_ , where the world was the same, but terribly different. As he thought about it, perhaps the academy was some kind of “Looking Glass”, the creeping feeling that something was “wrong” had settled so permanently in his mind that it was the definition of the Academy, but nothing had felt so terribly off-putting until now. Standing over the library, looking down at the figure by the door who had also caught sight of him, they stared each other down. Their clothes were similar, if Ludwig hadn't changed out his pants for the sweats, it would have been laughably disturbing, their style being a mirror save for the colour. They both stood straight, eyes fighting between widening in shock or narrowing in suspicion, the same emotions Ludwig felt flickering just as fast across the other teen's face. He looked like a ghost, pale skin blending into silver, unruly locks, a thin frame even compared to Ludwig and, from the looks of it, though it could just be the angle he stood from, the other boy seemed shorter. Ludwig felt a sense of familiarity looking into the comparably dark eyes, they looked almost crimson from the distance and the sheer intensity of the gaze they gave. He just couldn't place them.

Mentally rattling his brains, the other boy slowly approached, head tilted to one side and his weight shifted to his toes as if he expected some sort of trick. He had just put one foot on the first step when his lips moved. Ludwig froze, staring at the teenager. He couldn't have been much older than Ludwig who was less than six months from his seventeenth birthday, but as the white-haired boy came nearer, his thoughts jumbled into an incomprehensible muddled mess.

“Ludwig?” he asked again. The blonde nodded slowly once, the left corner of the albino's lips pulled into a lop-sided smirk. “Holy Shit, Lud! You got _big_! You remember me? Damn, you were still so cute and small last time I saw you!”

“If can't be you,” Ludwig heard himself say, his mind more or less going numb as he detached himself from his body, distancing the two of them mentally even as the other teen came closer. “Rather, you can't be him.”

Gilbert's smile faded some, blinking owlishly at the mumbling blonde who stared him down.

“My brother would be twenty-five.”


	4. 0.04: Holding Too Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When holding on hurts, but letting go isn't an option.

_The sun was starting to set behind the trees, casting long shadows over their little home, secluded away from the main road and the other people of the town. It was fall and the leaves were changing colours, alight in brilliant orange, yellow and red as they died and fell from the trees. Sitting at the round dinner table, eating alone, Ludwig looked out the window to the elderly man who stood alert on the doorstep, walking stick in hand and the old pudgy dog laying by his feet, head down on its paws as it bathed in a dimming ray of light. It would have been upsetting for the four-year-old as well if it wasn't such a regular thing. Once again it was dinner time. Once again Gilbert wasn't home after school. Once again, and many times to come, he'd be alone._

_The little greyhound suddenly lifted its head, floppy ears perked forward as much as they could as a figure came trudging down the unpaved path. The old man's tense posture relaxed visibly as he seemed to let out a breath he had been holding the past three hours waiting for the older boy to return home. Passive blue eyes flicked to his older brother, his features still nondescript as he half-limped down the road, head hanging as he stared towards the ground. It was peaceful when Gilbert was gone, but all Grandfather talked about was Gilbert._

_Gilbert. Gilbert. Gilbert._

_The frightening white demon with red eyes who screamed and thrashed, his body distorting into weird shapes when his temper flared. With him came the sounds of crashing glass and angry shouts. Drinking orange juice from his straw, the four-year-old watched as the old man went out and met him in front of the house. Watched as no words were spoken between them as he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, pulling him close in an embrace. Ludwig never knew what that felt like. His parents died a long time ago, he didn't even remember their faces. All his life had surrounded his brother and his scary temper. His kind and understanding grandfather who had his hands full with Gilbert. He looked back out at the two, still unable to see his brother behind the big back of the old man._

_He could throw the cup on the ground, scream and kick and make messes. He could cry and run away. He could do what Gilbert did too. Instead, he took the dishes, hopping up on his tip toes to put them in the sink before leaving to his room, ignoring the bitter jealousy churning in his stomach._

* * *

"My brother would be twenty-five."

Gilbert felt frozen as those words lingered between them. It was true he probably looked younger than he should, it had been a few years already since he had been promoted to a Guardian. But it really wasn't the words Ludwig said that stopped him, but the sheer animosity that glinted through those blue eyes. It was so strong he could feel it in the air, Ludwig most likely not realising that he had extended his wavelengths out in a threatening manner, like a cobra spreads its hood before a strike. It was cold, causing goosebumps to form down the back of his neck, shock keeping him in place.

His tongue flicked out almost nervously, moistening his lips before the smile was renewed with vigour, one hand reaching behind his head as he held the other up in surrender, "Ah, my mistake then. I mistook you for someone else. Pardon me then."

The blonde didn't really relax, they kept their staring match a few moments longer before Ludwig turned away, picking up a book from the table he stood beside and taking one step towards him. Wordlessly, the albino stepped aside, dropping his arms, his eyes staring at the floor as he sighed under his breath. The younger boy didn't even pause as he went down the stairs, looking straight ahead and out the door.

"That kid, seriously," the young man grumbled to himself, his smile timid, meant for for himself than anyone else. Rolling his shoulders he caught a glimpse of a blonde sprig of hair peeking over a stack of books. "Oi! I see you Alfred, and you still aren't getting out of class. For this detour, you're giving me an extra two minutes for every one you've wasted playing this little game."

"Hey!" the American exploded out from behind the stack, eyes wide, "That's not fair!"

"Life ain't fair, now move it," Gilbert called back with no sympathy, leaning against the rail with his arms folded.

* * *

 

" _I suppose I deserve this."_

Ludwig's arms swayed angrily by his sides as he marched down the paved road, knuckles turning pale as he gripped the binding of the book in one hand, glaring at the orange and red stones. What had he been expecting anyway, denying his brother like that. There was no way it couldn't be Gilbert, and Gilbert knew it was him. Where had it gone wrong? Drawing attention to himself by standing? If he had stayed sitting, or even pretended to look at another bookshelf, he probably would have been totally ignored. Or was it when he clammed up? Should he have acknowledged Gilbert? What if he had? What would he have said?

_Let's talk later?_

A bitter smile contorted his features, yeah, talk. They had never talked as children, truth be told, they were brothers by blood alone. Other than a shared last name, nothing bonded the two together. What good would  _talking_  be? Would it change anything? Would it completely negate the fact that Ludwig never knew what it was like to have a family while Gilbert did? Would it make him any less  _jealous_!?

"Oh no!"

"Look out!"

A ball lunged towards the blonde, shocking him out of his thoughts. The book fell, clattering to the ground as the German stumbled a few steps back, fighting to keep balance, but ultimately tangling in his own long legs, falling back. A small girl ran after it, sparing a short glance at the dazed teen with almost haughty bronze eyes alight like small flames in the brilliant glare of the setting sun. Even with him sitting, Ludwig easily reached eye-level to the child, but she tilted her head back and looked down her nose at him, the curly puff of a side-pony as she did so.

"Hey mister," she sniffed, demanding his attention despite already having it, the orange ball she had been chasing now in her pudgy hands. "You're a new Meister, aren't ya?"

Ludwig stared almost dumbly, not sure why such a small child was at a school like this. She couldn't be any older than seven and spoke with a slight speech impediment, despite acting older than her age. She wore red shorts and a plain tank top, mirroring the female uniform colours. There was no way she was actually attending classes though, was there?

Despite not getting a response, the child continued, looking over to where she had come, "Well, then ya probably don't know, but you're really botherin' everyone."

Children stood huddled together watching the two of them, some dressed in full uniform, others in similar clothes to the girl, but the boys wore blue shorts instead of red. All of them were quite young, though not as small as the spunky brunette. The oldest of them was ten, perhaps eleven, and several pairs of wary eyes watched him closely, daring him to say or do something wrong. Yes, they kept their distance, but it wasn't in fear.

"Sorry," he mumbled, slowly getting to his feet, dusting off the seat of his pants as he did so. Even though he towered over the little girl, she watched his gaze, craning her neck in a way that must have been uncomfortable.

"'Ts alright, but your soul waves are really strong and they are heavy and make it hard to breathe. Whatever bad things you were thinking about, you can forget those things here, Mister. Nothing bad can happen here unless you let it. That's what Teacher says."

Honestly, the teen couldn't tell if he was getting encouragement or a lecture, but either way, it was amusing. A small smile softened his face, "I'm sorry for concerning you and your friends. I'll try to keep my 'soul waves' to myself."

"You do that, okay mister?" she nodded sharply, starting back towards the group of children, "And don't forget your book, 'kay mister?"

Ludwig raised his hand in acknowledgement, though she turned her back to him. Not sure if she saw or not, she had apparently lost interest in him, and the other children had already forgotten his presence, returning to their game. He had seen children like that before, guarded and distrusting. After their grandfather had died, Ludwig had stayed several months in an orphanage. The children there all had their groups like that, looking at outsiders with that same wariness.

Finally looking away, sighing, he reached down to pick up the book, only to slam his forehead against something hard. Choking on a cry of pain, the blonde shot backwards, covering the wound out of instinct as he tried to find what he had hit. Crouched down, holding the back of their head with two hands was a brunette around his age, though smaller and more slight, dressed in the school uniform, the book clattering back to the stones beside him.

"Veh," the brunette groaned, glancing up at Ludwig with a cringe, one amber eye glossy with tears as the other screwed shut. As Ludwig let out a slow hiss, the other blushed darkly, "Veh! I'm sorry! So sorry! I was picking up the book for you, at least, I thought it was your book. I really wasn't trying to steal it! Oooh …. ow." The explanation tapered off to soft murmurs and whines of pain.

Tsking, Ludwig took a quick glance at his hand, not expecting to see anything, but more of a habit to make sure it really was just a surface wound before rubbing the sore spot again. Chances are it wouldn't even bruise, but the other teen seemed not to be taking it as well. "I didn't think you were stealing it. It isn't even …. Never mind, here." He reached out a hand to the sniffling brunette, obviously one with a low pain tolerance. "When did you get here anyway?"

Bronze eyes looked up timidly, still bright and glossy with prickly tears as he looked between the blonde and the outstretched hand. "Veh … I'm not quite sure myself." Ludwig wasn't sure if the other boy was stalling or not, either way, standing awkwardly with his hand out was becoming irritating. He opened his mouth to say something when he felt a warm hand slip into his. A soothing wave washed over him, surprising the blonde to silence, a foreign sensation coming over him. Something like familiarity, but intimate and relaxing.

It was only on reflex that he even bothered pulling the other student to his feet, and the moment he let go, the feeling began to fade. Ludwig caught himself staring at his hand, not quite knowing what that was, or why it happened, but one glance up to the brunette assured him that it wasn't only in his head.

"What was that?"

"I don't know," the other teen murmured, blinking owlishly at his own fingers, flexing them into a loose fist before spreading them out again, "but that weird feeling is going away."

"Huh?"

* * *

"Either you belt up or go to the infirmary!" Arthur snapped, forcing the icepack back on Alfred's bruised shoulder as the younger boy mewled in discomfort. "You knew what the bloody hell you were getting into when you took the class, Beilschmidt isn't known as the White Demon for nothing."

"You don't get it Arthur, he was  _brutal_  today! You have no idea! It was like he was seriously angry at something and just taking it out on me-eeek! That hurts! Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop!"

Arthur sneered at the other boy's cries, but letting up on the pressure slightly, at least to shut the fifteen-year-old toddler up. Lifting the home-made ice pack, he appraised the markings, admiring the deep shade of purple and dull red flecks scattered throughout the bruise. It was rather nasty, and while Gilbert's lessons were notoriously rough, he hadn't seen his house mate return so beaten before. "It isn't in an instructor's best interest to  _torment_  their students, though perhaps you are the exception."

"Har-har. No, really. Something went down in the library before he dragged me off to class. I tried hiding in there behind some books and there was this blonde guy there who caw me. He wasn't wearing a uniform, so I think he was new. But Gilbert saw him and was, like, super excited to see him, but that guy just totally brushed him off. But I couldn't really hear what he said."

"And we all know how good you are at reading the atmosphere," Arthur rolled his eyes, his mouth turned down in an unamused frown as he lifted the ice pack to give some relief to the bruise.

"You didn't even need to read the atmosphere with that guy," Alfred gushed, looking over his shoulder at the Englishman, "he gave off this seriously ominous aura that just screamed 'back off'. And Gilbert totally did. Like, he just stepped to the side and let the guy go, but after that he was really agitated. He threatened me with extra time! I would have died!"

Arthur glanced over at the younger teen, gauging his sincerity on the story before looking back to the bare back. Alfred's uniform shirt hung off the back of his chair as Arthur tended to the minor scrapes and bruises the bespectacled boy had acquired, mainly focused around his arms and shoulders. "But it isn't like he beat on you. Why were you being so reckless. You could seriously hurt yourself if you go to fast."

Alfred smiled timidly, rubbing the tip of his nose. "Ah-hah. Yeah, that. It's just … he looked pretty beaten down. I thought maybe trying extra hard could cheer him up."

Arthur's expression softened, sighing through his nose. Perhaps he didn't really know what transpired, but as usual, Alfred tried taking command of a situation he really should have kept out of. Whatever situation going on between Instructor Beilschmidt and some new student was really no one else's concern, but apparently the child had always been like this. He had his heart in the right place though.

"Ow! Why did you hit me!" Alfred shouted, grabbing the back of his head more out of shock than pain, Arthur's hands already back to fiddling in the first aide box. If he hadn't known better, Alfred wouldn't have even known that it was the Englishman who swat him.

"For exaggerating. Now hold still so I can bandage you up."

Turning away, the younger boy sulked, shoulders hunching over. Even despite his best efforts, Gilbert wasn't his usual self. He still drilled mercilessly, shouting at and scolding his student when he felt Alfred wasn't trying hard enough or, ironically, too hard. The albino had even let him go early, despite his antics after orientation. No matter what he did, it just wasn't enough. It was a terrible feeling.

* * *

"This place is really pretty, I wish you had been able to come. Even though here it is warm and the sun is very bright, and the sky is so clear you can even see all these stars; I still miss home. Here it has been only a day, and already I miss Sofia and her good food, and going outside with Natalya in the snow."

Ivan sat on the top step, overlooking the dock he had just climbed that morning. It really had only been one day, but after finding his dorm and making it as homey as he could, then spending the whole rest of the day exploring the unpaved paths of the island. With it being such a small island and having been raised in the middle of the Northern Forests where nobody lived and no paths marked the way, he hadn't really believed it possible for anyone to truly get lost, but a strange power coursed through those woods. He found himself turned around a few times and even in an entirely different place than he first expected. He remembered feeling something similar in the woods near his home, his older sister having told him to stay away from such places, but these were just a little different. The ones at home had felt like waves of heat, beating into him when he got too near. These felt cool and fluid, like the water lapping at the planks; but just like the ones in the Northern Forests, he couldn't walk through them.

"Even here, I feel a little rejected," he smiled shyly, looking up at the large moon that hovered over the black water, "I thought, perhaps, I would find a place to fit in here. But it seems I still don't quite belong."

The stars twinkled in response, entirely oblivious to his despair. Why would anything so elegant bother itself with problems like his? Perhaps it was better that way.

"Homesick?" A voice startled the Russian from behind.

Looking back, an upside-down boy stood a short distance back, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a red and white sports sweatshirt. His hair was quite long, chin-length and wavy with a long stray curl escaping the mane. Despite his gentle voice, the eyes behind the square rims were cold and disinterested. A chill swept down Ivan's button-down shirt as their gazes met, and he was certain it had nothing to do with the cool ocean breeze blowing in waves of mist.

Turning so as not to crane his neck as much, Ivan smiled sheepishly, "Apologies. I thought I was alone, otherwise I would not have spoken such embarrassing things."

"It's fine, I should apologize for eavesdropping, but," the cold eyes dropped down to shifting sneakers that scuffed the cobblestone, "I guess I wanted to try and make you feel better. But that isn't really my thing. I just felt ... Never mind that. How about we just pretend I didn't say anything. Sorry."

"Ah! Wait, please." Ivan turned more to face the pale blonde before he disappeared in the dark and mist. "I am Ivan. Braginsky. Please, stay."

Having only half-turned before being called back, the smaller teen with the hunched shoulders seemed to contemplate those words before signing softly. Ivan worried if he was being an annoyance, he never had met anyone outside of family before boarding the ship to attend the academy. Even still, he turned back to him with a small smile, those violet irises still distant but not so hard. "I'm Matthew Williams and, uhm, when you said that, about feeling rejected. I just thought, maybe, you should know that, you know, you're not alone. I mean, I know how you feel." As he spoke, his voice got quieter, softer, lower until it was barely audible muttering, but the Russian still made it out, though barely. Still, it brought a smile to his face.

"Thank you."


	5. 0.05 Never Good Enough

The sky was just lightening to a dull gray as dawn approached, the entire island still asleep. It was like being the only human left at the end of the world. If life were to cease, this was what it would feel like. It was the most serene, fulfilling time for him. Before the children woke to play, the students came to work; before the embers of rivalry smouldered and the half-healed scars of old wounds ripped open anew. For being a place of _belonging_ , the SWMA was little more than its own society with its own skeletons, the idea that any utopia could exist, even in a place like this, was foolish from the start. Violet eyes glanced up to the tower's peak with a disapproving gaze before he stepped through the double doors into the main hall.

 _'Who am I to call anyone's dreams foolish?'_ he thought almost bitterly, chastising himself for his gloomy thoughts. Things had been rather gloomy for a while, not that he really knew why. Nothing had happened to him, maybe it was the atmosphere, something felt off, and it had been so for a while. Even the halls of the school with the echoing of his footsteps seemed off, as though some kind of delay, it just felt _wrong_. Everything was wrong, ever since-.

"Yo." The albino greeted him nonchalantly, the teenaged face looking sullen and dark circles etched under his eyes as though he hadn't slept all night. Looking at the house of pencils that was being constructed on his desk, it was safe to assume he hadn't. "Why do you come so early? It's not like there's any work for a school doctor to do when no one is at school."

Ignoring the question entirely, the brunette flicked on the light, drowning out the orange glow of the desk lamp. The three beds of the infirmary were neatly made, his file cabinet reorganized and desk cleared off from the usual stacks of paper he left overnight. The floor looked as though it had been mopped and, save for the quivering tower of yellow pencils, the entire room was spotless. "You need to sleep."

"Don't feel like it."

He sighed, "Then at least get out of my chair."

Gilbert sat a moment longer before poking a pencil out of place, the entire structure collapsing to the table top with a clatter. "You don't have any files on the new students yet."

"Were you just snooping?!" he snapped at the Guardian, the fact he was quarreling with what looked like a mere child had by now been completely lost to him.

Gilbert shrugged, storing the pencils in the slide out drawer before pushing himself out of the leather seat. "Not really, just thought I'd try and burn off some steam and the thought crossed my mind. Are you up to date on anything though? Or do you just sit here waiting for one of the kids to come in with a scraped knee or something?"

"Keep talking, Gilbert, I'm sure I have something around here to help you sleep for a _long time_ ," he glared over his shoulder, the albino watching him with a half-dazed expression as he leaned against the rail of a bed.

"Then did you hear?"

"I hear _lots_ of things Gilbert, much of them about nothing in particular. If there was something you wanted to talk about, I'd suggest not being so vague."

" _She's_ coming back, Roderich. On the next boat in."

* * *

_"I'm leaving," he announced. Perhaps he should have planned this better, told them sooner, not when they had just woken up and his bags already packed. Two pairs of contrasting eyes staring back at him, both swirling with emotions before they settled in unison on confusion. They really were more alike than that knew._

_Gilbert opened his mouth, but was beaten to it as she practically pushed him aside, "What do you mean Roderich? Leave to where?"_

_Her green eyes stared up at him, pleading with him, as if telling him to just say it was all a joke. He could do that. It wasn't like he had anyone outside of them. "I'm leaving, I tested into a decent university in Europe to study medicine. Due to my situation, I qualify for scholarships and loans-."_

_"But we need you!" she cut him off. Normally it would have irritated him, but he had expected this response. EVen still, he couldn't look at her right. He had planned not to make direct eye contact, but her bottom lip was quivering, ever so slightly but it was. Her voice pitched almost hysterically as she continued, "You can't just leave like this! What about the next mission? Th-the ceremony-."_

_"He doesn't need to be there for that," Gilbert suddenly chimed in, but while she was on the verge of tears, he had turned withdrawn and cold. "Isn't that right? It isn't like you're the one getting recognized for anything, just me and Liza. Good enough excuse to just leave, right?"_

_"Gilbert!"_

_"Am I wrong!? Four-eyes there has been sulking ever since the last mission! All I see is some spurned little prince!"_

_"Gilbert! Stop it right now!" Elizabeta shouted, green flames of anger and hurt nothing against the albino's own icy glare, but instead of it being directed at her, they burned into him. He remained passive behind his glasses, putting the pieces together. How he had missed all of this before was beyond him, and yet it didn't change the fact that this all felt_ wrong _._

_"If he wants to throw a jealous tantrum, then just let him!"_

_"I wouldn't be the one talking jealousy if I were you, Gilbert," Roderich finally spoke. He hardly had a second to relish in his scathing comeback, enough to silence the albino for once before he was knocked backwards, his glasses flying from his face. He couldn't even fall to the ground, calloused hands grabbing his shirt collar at the last second before he was hit again._

_"Want to make any more snarky comebacks asshole!?"_

_Too dazed to reply, all he could register was the blurry image of wrathful red orbs staring down at him before a mass or brown and green swiped it away and Roderich was left stunned and confused on the hardwood floor. There was a crash and shouting, but his ears were still ringing from the blows to the head, it felt like he had been hit by a car. numbly reaching around himself, he found his glasses, the arms bent, the glasses sat crooked on his face, but at least the lenses hadn't cracked._

_"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Elizabeta screamed, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes as she slammed the albino against the floor, hearing his head hit the wood with a loud thud, she almost worried she had seriously hurt him._

_"If you want to be with him so bad, just go with him!" Gilbert shouted back, his eyes unfocused, but whether that was from the high emotions or the blow to his head, she couldn't tell._

_Both of their feelings rushing into her, pulling her apart from the inside. Wrapping her arms around her middle, the pain becoming physical as she straddled Gilbert's waist. "Just stop it you two! Stop!"_

* * *

_"Arthur! You're up early, is something the matter?"_

The blonde blinked out of his far-away stare to find the owner of the voice staring him in the eye with concern. Leaning back to give himself some room, he smiled wearily, "Sorry Gelsey. No, nothing is wrong, per say, but something is…. happening. I'm not sure what."

Gelsey frowned at that, her tiny mouth turning into a pout as she hovered in place, her delicate wings a blur behind her. _"Is it a good happening, or a bad happening?"_

Arthur appraised her tenderly, the gentle smile growing a bit at her detective work. Out of the many sprites and spirits he had come to know, she was perhaps the one he had grown most fond of, having followed him to even this place despite the danger to her. Holding his hand out to her, she took the invitation, landing daintily upon his palm before settling down, sitting cross-legged like an eager child for his answer. "I don't really know, but I sense a lot of things. Sometimes it's sad, sometimes angry, all of it negative."

 _"But sometimes good things can come of bad,"_ Gelsey interjected, propping her chin up on her hands as she did so, slouching as though she felt the predicament her human friend was under. _"Hmm. I don't know if it is really any place of mine to say, but I sense some of it too. A great sadness lingering here. It is like the petals of a rose falling one by one. It wasn't very strong when we first came here, but it has gotten very, very sad."_

Green eyes blinked at that confession, not having as deep a connection to such things as Gelsey or even Matthew and Alfred, a fact he had always felt impaired him to things like this. For him to be sensing it, even this late, was more a testament to how bad it had gotten, not so much any improvement in his abilities. To hear that this feeling had been around for quite some time was almost embarrassing. "Does that mean it has something to do with the Keeper?"

Gelsey's shoulders crowded her neck as she shrugged, big blue eyes batting owlishly, _"I wouldn't know that! I'm not a Weapon-Meister, I'm just an elemental faerie."_

"Arthur?"

Gelsey vanished into his shirt collar as he turned to the voice coming, peculiarly, from the front door. Matthew was taking off his shoes and jacket as he glanced up to the Englishman, his violet eyes looking tired as he did so, "What are you doing up so early? Something happen with Alfred?"

"Ah, no, just had an unsettling dream," Arthur lied easily, "You aren't usually gone so long, did something happen?"

Matthew shook his head about to make himself some tea, thought against it and started a pot of coffee, "I happened across one of the new arrivals on my walk. I don't know why I stopped, let alone talked to him. I guess I just felt compelled to. Funny, isn't it? Impulsiveness is usually Alfred's thing."

"That's why you're just now getting home?" Arthur raised an eyebrow skeptically, trying to read the other boy. Usually there was a biting edge to him but it had softened some, despite even Alfred being brought up multiple times.

The Canadian shrugged, "Yeah. He was pretty chatty, like a little kid. From what he said, he had never been away from home before though, outside of his sisters, whom he talked about _a lot_ , he had never met another person."

"That sounds like a painfully small existence," he commented, sipping at his lukewarm tea and frowning at the dull flavour.

"I thought that too, but he spoke so _fondly_ of them and I couldn't help but think, you know, is _that_ what a family is? He didn't have parents or guardians, just him and his sisters." The boy sighed, looking down into the empty sink as the pot beeped resolutely to announce the coffee was ready, the earthy aroma filling the flat with a sort of warmth Arthur never could appreciate.

"I know I've told you this before," Arthur spoke slowly, waiting for the flare of anger that usually accompanied these rare conversations, "but a family is whatever you make it to be." It never came, instead he was met with a somber, if stiff, silence. "You're tired lad, maybe you should sleep. I can cook-."

"No, no. I'm fine Arthur, but thank you anyway."

* * *

Passing the barrier was always a jarring experience, sometimes it meant nightmares, other times it felt as though a part of you you didn't know you had weighing you down goes missing, leaving a sense of freedom afterwards. This time it was the former. When had she last slept? Not since the night she was asked to come back. Granted she had been given the option to turn down the assignment, she had never been the teaching sort after all, but she didn't.

"I'm an idiot," she muttered to herself as the boat bellowed a welcoming horn, announcing its arrival to the dock. She could see the small group of students wearing the same uniform she used to wear all those years ago with the school logo on their blazers and shirt sleeves, their assignment scrolls in hand, the same as her's. Looking down at the parchment, a wave of nostalgia and vertigo hit her at once, as though nothing had ever changed.

_'That's the last thing I want.'_

* * *

_A field of gold and crimson bathed in a bronze light of a setting sun in a place he had never been before. He sat against a rock, the sun warm against his face as he breathed deeply, smelling an oncoming autumn as the summer slowly waned away, unwilling to let go like a happy memory. He made to move only to feel another warmth brush against his back, surprising him. A gentle voice, like the sound of a creek, began to speak in words he couldn't understand, but were not so foreign that he couldn't tell it was a woman. She was smaller than him, her shoulder blades pressing into the middle of his back as she relaxed more against him, her warmth filling him as though she were a second sun. As her voice surrounded him, he lost the will to leave her, leaning his head back to rest on the top of her's, his eyes trained to the sky and the puffy pink clouds bathed in a red and violet sky. She laughed. He didn't even know her name, but he laughed too._

* * *

A dull knock on the bedroom door was what roused him. Groggy blue-grey eyes cracked open as he blinked the ceiling into focus, a sense of confusion washing over him as he didn't recognize it. He didn't recognize the bed either, but what else was new? He didn't even know who he was for a moment as images of the sky and the red and yellow field flashed through his mind.

 _"Ludwig?"_ a voice called from the other side of the door, _"Are you awake? We got mail."_

The memories of the past day slowly caught up to him as the other male spoke, hitting him like a brick after having such a bizarre dream. It had felt so _real_ and now he wasn't so sure what was reality and what was the dream. Rousing himself from the bed, dressed in boxers and his tanktop, he rubbed the inner corners of his eyes. "Sorry, I must have overslept. Give me a moment and I'll be out."

_"Ah, sorry, take your time. I'll start breakfast."_

He was about to tell his roommate not to bother but stopped himself; if Francis was going to volunteer then that would be fine. He'd just make dinner in exchange. Speaking of which, they really should discuss the chores more. Instinctively he went to the dresser across from the bed, only half remembering that he hadn't really brought any clothes. To his surprise the wardrobe had been filled as if by magic with blue plaid trousers, white button up shirt and a pair of beige sweater vests with the school logo embroidered on the left breast. Beside the door hung two blue blazers with the same logo and extra iron-on patches had been left on the top.

He was mildly concerned that someone may have come in while he was sleeping, but at the same time he also had a sense of accomplishment, as though he had been promoted from outsider. His shoes were still on top of the chest at the foot of the bed and his sweats were still in the hamper, so perhaps no one had come when he was sleeping, which was reassuring, but as he looked around the room some more, he found two pairs of Oxfords under the bedside table and his cargo pants and tank top that he had arrived in washed and folded in the chest. Changing his clothes, wearing the clean tank top under the school uniform and hooked the dress shoes with his fingers to carry them to the front door.

Francis was in the small kitchen with the stove going. "You don't mind omelettes, do you? I would normally take more time on a meal, but we have somewhere to be very soon and I rather not take up too much time."

"Omelettes are fine." On the table an old-fashioned scroll sat, the seal broken, most likely by Francis seeing as he seemed to already know something Ludwig didn't. Instead of asking, the German teen placed his shoes by the front door before picking it up, frowning at the pretentiousness of it all. This was the twenty-first century, surely a simple letter in an envelope could have sufficed.

_Meister orientation at 11:00 in the courtyard, classes begin immediately._

"Such pretty parchment for something so precise," he muttered as the Frenchman placed a plate on the table before him, mumbling an instinctive 'thank you' to the other.

"Perhaps, I personally find it has an added sense of weight to it. All assignments given to Weapon-Meister teams come in similar scrolls, so it is a good introduction," Francis chirped happily, settling across the table with his own breakfast, "I do appreciate them having it so late in the day, I only just woke up because I had left my door open and they kept knocking."

Ludwig glanced at the clock, glad he had chosen to get dressed already, it seemed Francis had done the same, but instead of wearing the full ensemble as he had done, he had opted out of the sweater vest. Perhaps having both was redundant, but at least having both for the orientation would make a good impression. "At least we also have classes to look forward to."  
"I'm more interested in who the teacher will be. They specially picked the new instructor, so they must have a good reputation. Not many previous students are that well known. Ironic but most go back to being normal people, only a handful ever actually keep taking assignments."

"Something tells me you already know who it most likely is and know that even if you told me who, I wouldn't have any idea why they're so great."

Francis laughed, trying to cover his mouth with the back of his hand and not choke. "You already know me too well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember me? So I had to skip November due to stress from show. December due to stress from show and major depression, I contemplated going back to hospital but decided against it. My birthday passed and I finally got drunk, it was interesting. Well, that's all that is going on in my life. Oh, and I got three cat babies now. The new one is tired and throwing a tantrum and tried deleting this chapter because she wants to sleep with me and only me. I hope you like this chapter, just a little bit shorter than usual. All reviews are deeply loved. Honestly, I write reading the reviews to keep me going.


	6. 0.06: The Laws of Attraction

The courtyard was packed with students, the patches sewn into their uniforms marking each one as a Meister. Unlike the Weapon children he had seen the other day, they were all much older, himself being among the youngest in attendance from the looks of it. The seats were aligned in perfect rows, possibly never having been moved since the Weapon orientation. A platform had been erected at the far end of the piazza, six seats arranged in such a way that each one could be seen from every angle. It looked sturdy, but also temporary. Even with it, the enclosure was quite large, easily housing an ornamental fountain, which explained why the hallways inside the main building felt so unnecessarily long.

Already having taken their place, the teacher from their first day sat in the farthest most left seat; leg crossed at the knee and arms cradled over his chest, it took Ludwig a moment to realize the teacher was in fact sleeping sitting up.

"Hercules Karpusi," Francis spoke beside him, the Frenchman's voice suddenly becoming clear over the drone of the hundred-plus students conversing and organising seats, the older Meisters directing the new attendees towards the front. "He's been a Guardian since the school was founded. He also has a tendency of falling asleep when given the chance. He and his partner Sadiq teach the more advanced classes for Weapon-Meister pairs."

Ludwig glanced at his roommate from the corner of his eye before taking a seat in the third row from the platform, Francis taking the seat to his immediate right, closest to the aisle between rows. "I thought all Guardians were Weapons of the Keeper."

"They are," the blond assured him lazily, making himself as comfortable as he could in the folding chair, "both Sadiq and Hercules are Weapons but their wavelengths are so compatible that they can also double as each other's Meister. It isn't unheard of, but it is very rare, especially since they are not related to each other."

 _'So it is possible for a Weapon to be a Meister.'_ Ludwig thought to himself, tucking that tidbit of information away. Subtlely the German scanned the rest of the audience, the particularly large Russian boy, Ivan, was sitting in the front row of another aisle, and the other new students had filed in, though keeping a bit of distance from the sandy blond. He did give off a peculiar aura, so it didn't really surprise Ludwig that he was given space.

Another, older, man who actually did appear more mature than Hercules, had made his way onto the stage. He had dark hair and eyes with notably bronzer skin and a shadow of a beard lining a rather square jaw until meeting with a thicker patch at the point of his chin. The man stopped in front of the sleeping teacher to where Ludwig could not see his face, but figured the man sighed as he noted the rise and heavy fall of his shoulders. Taking a seat beside the sleeping Hercules, the blond figured it safe to assume this was Sadiq.

Then _he_ appeared. He looked worse than Ludwig had last seen him, dark circles more prominent on his pale skin, and he looked tense. A pang of distress radiated from his gut. Guilt? He refused to let that linger on his mind, tearing his gaze away as the young man took a seat beside Sadiq, the darker man opening his mouth to speak.

Instead he looked to Francis, "You said this school wasn't just a school before. So does that mean lessons are different? What about grade levels?"

"Very much so, this isn't really basic arithmetic and literature. There isn't a set curriculum either. At least not in the way as normal schools," Francis responded smoothly, seemingly not having noticed the change in Ludwig's stature. Or perhaps he did and just decided to give him that decency. "The classes are typically individual, each student learning at their own pace and moving on when they are ready. Some move faster, others slower. This way no one is either excelled beyond their capabilities, nor are they held back due to their peers."

"And how do they know when you're ready to move on?"

"First you need the head knowledge," the Frenchman pressed, giving a look that told him not to get ahead of himself, "After that, it is just about finding your Weapon. It - … Oh!"

The interruption was jarring for Ludwig as his head swiveled to the podium instinctively. A young-faced person in a flowing garnet dress stood at the head of the row of teachers. There were five in total, the two vacant beside Gilbert separated the Guardians from a rather beautiful woman. Where they sat, Ludwig could make out only slight features of her face; large eyes with a thin, petite nose. Her hair was the colour of acorns with side-swept bangs that were tucked haphazardly behind her right ear.

"Good morning, and a warm welcome to our new arrivals. To those of you who don't know me, my name is Wang, Yao. I teach the younger weapons in the academy. I also am acting as standing representative for the Keeper today."

Ludwig partially tuned out the man's words. Mildly surprised that the individual was male, but also that this was the Guardian that Francis had told him of. Yao, the man who had supposedly fought alongside the Keeper at the beginning of their era, witnessed and participated in the collapse of the most powerful empire in history. The fact that the Chinese man didn't look a day over his early twenties couldn't compute in his head. Ludwig had trouble accepting that some kind of power, magic, existed that could stop the process of time itself. It wasn't even that Yao merely looked young, he _was_ young.

He caught his eyes trailing towards his brother who looked no older than himself. He had to have known that immortality existed among these people, but he had subconsciously rejected the idea. Seeing Gilbert the other day forced him to address these aspects he had refused to acknowledge, and even then he had turned away from his own brother in that moment. After the fact it was easy to recognize his sibling, just so long as he didn't have to _look_ at him. Even with everything Francis had told him, he could write it off as stories, superstitions. Not now.

"... Not long … Delay … New Instructor." Ludwig's attention snapped back to Yao as the Guardian stepped aside to allow the woman to speak at the podium. She didn't look severe per say, nothing like what he had come to expect, what with living with his aunt. She did look uncomfortable, but otherwise her features were soft; especially her olive green irises, brought out more by the emerald dress she wore.

"Hello," she started off, a tepid smile gracing her features. "My name is Elizabeta, though some of you may have heard of me as the Witch Hunter."

* * *

_Earlier_

"Thank you for coming," Yao greeted her at the dock. A wave of disappointment hit her, but she did her best to stifle it. He was alone.

Rather, she smiled, "I would be a pretty ungrateful student if I declined. Besides, I have missed this place like crazy. I feel like a little girl again."

"I can imagine," Yao smiled a little too-politely. It gave away the act. He knew, he'd be an idiot if he didn't know, and for some reason that made her feel even less prepared. If he could sense her unease, how much more …? "I'm sure there is a lot on your mind right now, but before any of that is addressed, Kiku requested you meet with him first."

Elizabeta released a breath she had unconsciously been holding, feeling rather embarrassed at herself. "I see. I don't suppose - …"

"He won't be there, though you two really should come to an understanding before the orientation, if simply for the sake of appearances."

Yao turned away from her, apparently done with the conversation as he led the way towards the tower. Of course they didn't get along, their personalities from the start were polar opposites. Still, it brought a small smile to her lips. _'Only you could get on the bad side of the most understanding man in the world.'_

* * *

"It is…" she froze a moment, the unwavering eyes of a hundred children burrowing into her. She subconsciously licked her lips, looking down at the paper she had prepared on the journey back, the notes making little sense to her now. She partially wished she had just written the whole thing out. "An honour… to be here today. And to be your new instructor. Honestly, I never thought I'd be in this sort of position… so I haven't really bothered with public speaking classes." She made a face somewhat between a wince and a smile, which earned her a few scattered giggles. She gave a short laugh herself, scanning her notes again to try and figure out what she was supposed to say. "Let's hope I'm a quick learner."

The unmistakable snort from the row of men behind her had her glance back from the corner of her eye.

* * *

She closed the door behind her, leaning against the wood heavily. Her eyes trained on the polished linoleum floor of the empty hall. Inside, her emotions were a whirling mess of confusion and despair with a looming cloud of regret lingering overhead. Regret for accepting the request to come back. Regret for not having noticed things sooner. Regret for being inadequate. Regret for her regret, compounded with this immense weight that had been dropped rather unceremoniously on her shoulders.

The shadow appeared over her suddenly, jarring her from the darker paths her mind was going. She jerked upright, only to find her forehead was pressed against something firm and warm. The turmoil bubbling inside her quieted almost instantly as she allowed herself to fall into the embrace, wrapping her arms around the strong neck for comfort. They stayed like that for a while, it was almost a miracle no one had happened across the strange sight, but in the end he was the one to let go first.

"You look like shit."

"Yeah, well," he scratched the back of his head, not making eye contact, "Tell me something I don't already know."

"... I needed that."

He snorted, a tired, lopsided grin pulling at his features, finally drawing his gaze to hers. "What did I just say?"

* * *

"I look forward to getting to know each of you individually. I also have an announcement. Classes for more advanced Meisters, paired or not, are delayed until tomorrow. For new Meisters, classes begin after lunch today in the lecture hall. …. Thank you."

She worried she had rambled too much. This was more of a mass meet-and-greet for her anyway, none of the students were familiar, but then again she had been gone for seven years, It would have been more concerning if she had recognized anyone in the back rows. Yao finished the orientation out, the audience of teens silent the entire way through, even as he dismissed them they simply got to their feet. There was a low ripple of voices from the back that slowly made its way to the front. Many of the new students still kept to themselves, others broke off into pairs. She remembered the feeling, being alone in a new place. They still had yet to get used to everything.

"You just gonna keep staring off into space?"

She looked up at him, his button down open to reveal the black tank top he had most definitely slept in. He still looked harrowed, perhaps even more so being out in the harsh light of the sun, bleaching out his already pale skin. Still, she felt calm with him near, to the point that she was almost reluctant to admit it. "Just reminiscing. Why?"

Gilbert stepped back as she stood, hands in his baggy cargo pants as he rolled his shoulders. "Just figured I'd let you enjoy your lunch break."

He was being strange. "Are you asking me to eat with you?"

"Oh hell no, not where I was going with that," he pulled a face that got her to laugh. "No. I was saying there is someone in the infirmary who I think you may want to see."

She covered her lips a moment to try and stifle the stupid smile as she shook her head, though at who it was directed to she wasn't even sure herself. "Why would I need to go there? Let me guess, to get my head checked?"

"I'm starting to think that," he deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. "Ah fuck it. Roderich is here, in the infirmary." Butterflies knotted her stomach. He was here? So close?

She hadn't even sensed him.

* * *

_Meisters are the primary players in combat. Any ability on behalf of the pair is instigated and controlled by the Meister. In more immature teams, the Weapon-Meister relationship is solely that of the Meister wielding their own soul wavelengths and the Weapon merely allowing those waves to pass through them; similar to speaking into a megaphone. As pairs mature and develop their skills and the transfer of energy from Meister and Weapon becomes more fluid, they will be able to perform an ability known universally as Soul Resonance._

_Soul Resonance is a phenomena in which a Meister passes their Wavelength into their Weapon, who then amplifies it before passing it back. The duo do this repeatedly until the wavelength reaches a point where neither can add any more. The immense power behind the wavelength can cause a change in the appearance of the Weapon Partner's form to accommodate the tremendous energy. Resonance is a very particular experience that requires a deep bond between Meister and Weapon, so while a Meister may be able to wield a weapon, this does not mean they can resonate with each other, as Weapon-Meister bonds grow, however, there is the possibility for a Soul Resonance to occur._

_Traditional Weapon-Meister pairs exist with one Meister and one Weapon who can perform a successful Soul Resonance. A class of Meisters exist, however, known as Utility Meisters who can resonate with more than one Weapon. There are two known classes of Utility Meisters, Type A being a Meister who can wield two weapons at once and perform a Soul Resonance with both weapons. Type A Meisters are the rarer of the two. In all documented cases of Type A Meisters, both weapons involved are related, thus sharing similar wavelengths. Type B Utility Meisters can wield and Soul Resonance with more than one weapon, but only one at a time-._

* * *

"You've been reading that book since we got back, aren't you hungry at all?" Francis interrupted. Ludwig put down the book to notice an untouched plate of cooling food having been placed in front of him.

"You know you don't always need to cook. I can take some of the chores." Placing the book down on the table, still open to the page he had left off, the German pulled the plate closer to eat. The meal itself looked light but large, a fresh salad with bits of yellow, which he figured to be boiled egg yolk with a side of bread and a bowl of fruit topped with yogurt. "When did you make this?"

Francis sat across the table, waving the question away. "It doesn't take long to throw something like this together. And I do enjoy cooking, I wouldn't volunteer my labour if I didn't."

"You hardly volunteer as much as you just materialize food out of thin air," he half-grumbled, earning a laugh from the other blond, "If you are going to be cooking every meal, then I insist to do the dishes after."

Francis didn't even bother to keep from chuckling, almost choking on his glass of water. Clearing his throat, he nodded in agreement. "If it'll ease your mind, I can't bring myself to refuse."

The German nodded with a grunt of approval as he started on his meal. He didn't really find what he said all that funny, but if his roommate was amused, perhaps he wasn't as bad with people as he previously had thought. It was actually reassuring.

* * *

After such an exhausting day, it was nice to be able to sit quietly and watch the sun set. The sky burned with brilliant oranges and reds before fading into delicate pinks and lavender before dimming to a deep indigo that promised a beautiful night. The lecture had been long, but not boring. The instructor having an easier time with the small handful of brand new students than with the bulk of the entire Meister student population. He was still processing it all, he was honestly surprised when a body sat down beside him.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" the blond from before inquired, the glare of the dying light illuminating the oval lenses of his glasses. He wore the same uniform, minus the blazer and, oddly enough, tucked in. On his scrawny lap was a rolled up blanket he had brought along and a lunchbox sat between them. Ivan stared at the boy curiously, more trying to register what the paraphernalia was for. Apparently following the Russian's gaze, matthew straightened, "Oh, I figured I'd find you here after classes. I know the first one can be a real doozy. I also made dinner for my roommate and our neighbour and there was some left over so I thought I could save you the trouble of cooking after a long day."

A smile pulled at his lips as the Canadian rambled, partway sounding more to himself than to the older teen, but Ivan just waited it out. "Thank you, I appreciate it. I was just lost in thinking was all. I did not hear you come up."

"I've had people say I'm as quiet as a ghost, so I don't take it personal."

They settled into a comfortable silence, the town in the distance where children's voices could be faintly heard once in awhile as the younger ones squeezed in a few more hours of play before they returned to their dorms when the fog rolled in. The first stars began to appear when he felt something. It was like a nudge, but Matthew wasn't close enough to be touching him. He turned to look and the feeling kept coming, but he could clearly see the distance between them.

"Are you alright?"

Violet eyes blinked in surprise, the Weapon had unrolled the blanket to sit on, making the stones more comfortable perhaps. "Ah, am I that obvious?" he gave an unenthused smile. "Nothing particularly. Just my mind sometimes wanders to unpleasant places when I don't engage myself."

"What places would those places be? You listened to my ramblings, it is only fair to allow me to listen to yours." That probably didn't come out right by how the smile became more wry.

Deciding to lay back and give his arms a break, the Canadian stared at the darkened sky with a heavy sigh. "My roommate is my half-brother, and i guess you could say we don't exactly get along."

"Why is that?"

"Mainly because I didn't even know he existed for thirteen years of my life." Ivan remained silent after the reveal, giving Matthew the go-ahead to continue. "Perhaps I'm just petty. Everyone else seems to see it that way. My mother left when I was young, I never heard anything from her after that. I just figured she was dead to be honest. Then I come to the academy and I run into this kid who looks… so much like her. I didn't want to believe it, you know? But he has pictures, a whole book of them, and she's in there. She stayed for him."

"You resent him because of her?" Ivan asked, trying to understand the messy family his new friend had. He had always been curious what it was like to have a larger family, but now he was more appreciative of his small family in the woods.

"It seems unfair, even when I think about it, but yeah. Sometimes I hate him, other times he's my brother."

Ivan smiled at that, craning his neck back to count the stars as they appeared. "If you can still call him your brother, then even if you hate him, you cannot really hate him. It is okay to not always love your family, because even if you don't feel love, you still love them as long as they are your family."

The insistent nudging that had only intensified as they spoke slowly started to fade, leaving him much more comfortable as the fun finally dipped below the horizon. "Huh. I can understand that, I think."

"Family is something that is very difficult. My sister Natalya and I would occasionally have bitter arguments where we would not talk for days or I would run away into the woods. But I would always talk to her again. I always came home."

"Sometimes I just ask myself why she didn't love me. Maybe if not enough to stay, why didn't she take me?"

"I cannot answer that." Ivan frowned slightly before turning to the other blond, "Chances are your brother cannot answer it either."

They returned to their silence, it was more like an understanding the way they could talk so easily when they spoke and just be together in a calm way when they didn't. It was relaxing. Perhaps this was what Miss Elizabeta meant when she was talking about soul compatibility.


	7. 0.07: Life Isn't Fair

He really should have listened.

* * *

_"Gilbert, can I sit in during Alfred's lessons?" he asked before taking another sip of the water bottle his instructor had handed him. He was exhausted, propped against the base of the big tree, and yet he still hadn't even accomplished a partial transformation._

_The Guardian frowned, "I don't think that would be wise."_

_"Please!" he practically begged, earnestly leaning forward, wobbling slightly with fatigue, "I'm not understanding something, if I see Alfred-."_

_"This isn't something you can just learn by watching, Feli," Gilbert interrupted._

_"But I'm not making any progress like this."_

_Gilbert looked conflicted. He turned to the sky, still hazy with mist in the early morning, and rubbed the back of his neck; his right hand on his hip as Feli watched him falter with a mix of guilt and elation. He sighed heavily in defeat. "Ask Al, if he's fine with it you can come, but I really would like you to think about this a bit more."_

_"Thank you, Gilbert!"_

* * *

He made it look so easy.

* * *

_Alfred blinked in surprise, his sandwich halfway to his open mouth when the Italian interrupted his lunch. It was almost a surprise to see the blonde put his food down as a wide smile spread across his face. "Awesome! Of course you can come!"_

_"Really? You don't mind?" Feli smiled back, excitement welling in his chest. He was curious, they never really talked despite both being Gilbert's only students, so he didn't know how their lessons differed or anything. It suddenly felt like being in an exclusive club._

_"As if I would," the American laughed before finally taking a chunk out of his meal. "I got lessons right before dinner since the new classes with Weapon-Meister pairs take up my old time slot. Wanna meet up before?" He spoke with his mouth full, blue eyes beaming with pride._

* * *

"That form is impractical," Gilbert deadpanned, staring at Alfred's hand. It changed so effortlessly, the hooked blade gleaming in the dying light of the sunset. "What are you, a pirate? That little thing isn't going to be any use in combat."

"I'm trying!" Alfred whined, ears tinged bright red in embarrassment, "My full form isn't this small!"

Despite Gilbert's criticism, Feliciano was in awe. The practicality was the least of his concerns, he hadn't even been able to manage the transitional phase, which Alfred had apparently mastered. It was like a blink, one moment his hand was there, then that flash of light, that pure energy, and there was the sickle. Small, but still a partial transformation.

It wasn't fair. Alfred was just a kid and here he was, a grown adult, struggling to get something even this basic.

Gilbert frowned, glancing at Feli. _'And this is why I didn't want you to see.'_

He sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "You're ready for a Meister and yet you don't even know how to amplify your own wavelength?"

"It isn't that easy!" the blonde cried, his hand returning to normal as his focus wavered, "That's like having a battery charge itself! How does that even work!?"

The Guardian smirked. "That's a good analogy, actually. How does a battery charge itself?"

"It can't!"

"Not if you keep up that attitude. Try again."

* * *

Ludwig watched the other students discreetly. It was like any typical school come dinner. Yao sat at a table with the young children, he even recognized the dark-haired girl with the bronze eyes and curly side ponytail. The Guardian looked more like a caring parent, something many of those kids probably never had before. He could still remember them peeking at him from the corner of the alley, huddled together.

_"Nothing bad can happen here unless you let it."_

He smiled despite himself. He had always been the jealous type, bitter since he was a child. It wasn't fair.

Older students, closer to his age, seemed to favour Sadiq and Hercules. They weren't as glued to the two Weapons as the younger students, but in between their own groups of classmates and friends they would stay and chat with one of the two. Most were Weapons, a Meister or two could be seen, their class emblems rare among the crowd, but if he wanted to find more, he needn't look further than the table farthest to the back.

Elizabeta Héderváry was quite popular. Older "students", Weapon-Meister pairs who lived on the island despite more-or-less being what was the equivalent of graduated, as well as those who had been newly paired, seemed to take the most interest in her. It was almost jarring how different her group looked compared to the other two; diverse. Ludwig was still in the Meister-only classes, so he never spent much time with Weapons, but seeing them all talking, laughing, enjoying dinner. It was just something else he envied.

"Isn't this better than eating in the dorm all alone?" Francis chimed happily from across the table. It was one of the smaller side tables closer to the door that allowed Ludwig to overlook the cafeteria without feeling too uncomfortable. At least the Frenchman was nothing if not considerate, even when he dragged his roommate out of their apartment against his will.

"It's definitely louder," Ludwig reiterated, focusing back on his meal of mashed potatoes and pork.

Francis laughed to himself, "It's the only way you're going to meet anyone who isn't a Meister. Relax, be social."

The German teen raised an eyebrow, but otherwise had no reason to further the conversation. It wasn't the first time Francis commented on his lack of people skills, but most every other time it devolved into some sort of low-key argument of snide remarks that Ludwig couldn't win. "Is this the norm?"

"Essentially. Once in awhile Beilschmidt will appear, but this is the status quo for the most part." Francis reveled in how Ludwig stiffened."I know it is a hot topic-."

"Then don't touch it," the German deadpanned.

Tucking a strand of blonde hair behind his ear, Francis ignored the interruption, "But it's obvious you and Beilschmidt have some history. I'm curious, and say what you will, I don't believe in bottling emotions. So what is he? A father? A brother? Why are you so against acknowledging him?"

A numbing fire boiled under Ludwig's stoic expression. It wasn't anger, per say, though that would have been the easiest way of relieving the cold tension. Honestly, when having the questions directed at him, it wasn't easy to have an answer.

So what is he?

"He's my older brother by blood, though my relationship with him is more similar to that of a complete stranger. He is eight years older than me, so there wasn't much in common between us. The last time I saw him, I was four years old."

Francis stared, not sure exactly what caught him off guard; the fact Ludwig actually replied, or that he spoke calmly, perhaps eerily so, but still an improvement than the angry outburst he expected.

"...Then why-."

"I'm sorry." Ludwig muttered numbly, not sure why he was apologizing, but it was enough to give him time to stand. He didn't want to have to think back anymore, and from how people glanced at their table, it was broadcasting loud and clear that he wasn't comfortable. He didn't wait for a reply, walking out of the dining room.

* * *

Try Again.

His lips felt dry, chapped. He probably was dehydrated. Was that affecting his performance?

Try Harder.

Cold sweat rolled down his temple and along his jaw, every muscle clenched in concentration. He could almost see it. Maybe? There was something bright. It got lighter, he could see white behind his eyelids.

Feliciano's eyes flew open, the entire clearing illuminated as the energy behind the light tousled his hair and the branches of the trees. His jaw went slack. He did it. He finally-.

Too Long.

A sharp pain erupted in his arm, travelling to his shoulder blade as the light started deforming. Something hooked, something round; freezing burns and a hollow weight, it changed too quickly, not solidifying into a single shape.

Only now did he realize why Gilbert had told them to never practice alone.

"Hey! What's happening!?"

"Ah, no, I-."

A hand came down on his shoulder.

* * *

_The dark hallway echoed silence, a lone night light in the corner barely illuminating the massive door. It was closed. Popping up on his toes, he reached for the doorknob, the cold metal almost burning him as his fingertips grazed it, just out of reach. A barely audible thud behind him made him jump. Whirling around, he saw blinked at the red blanket frumpled on the ground. Where had it come from?_

_It was getting cold._

_Everything was so big, it was almost frightening. The door reached up so high, even as he craned his neck back, he couldn't see where the wall ended and the ceiling began. With a sigh he turned, grabbing the fuzzy blanket and cradling it to his chest. He had never seen it before, but for some reason he had to hold on to it. Everything was foreign, now that he thought about it. When had he ever been in such a nice home? This definitely wasn't the orphanage, the blankets there weren't so nice and the nuns didn't have nightlights in the halls._

_'Where am I?'_

_When he tried to speak, his mouth wouldn't move, instead he found himself reaching for the door again, this time giving a little hop, his other hand still holding the blanket. The door was panelled and looked old, even heavy. If he could turn the doorknob, he'd probably not be able to actually open it._

_'I feel like Jack in the Giant's home.'_

_He looked down at the blanket, at the stubby little arms and skin was so pale, even in the dim light that managed to filter behind the drawn curtains, it seemed to glow. Apparently the realization that opening the door wasn't going to happen, the little hand reached out and knocked._

_"Giwbet!"_

_'Giwbet?'_

_"Giwbet! Pwost Neujahr!"_

_No response. He knocked again._

_"Pwost Neujahr!"_

_It was silent a moment._

_"Danke. Prost Neujahr."_

_"Kommst Du?"_

_"Nein. Schlaf ein."_

_"Ich bin nicht müde!"_

_"Ich bin müde. Schlafengehen."_

_"Du bist Immer müde!"_

_He stomped his foot down, speaking this strange language with a childish lisp. He couldn't even understand what he was saying._

_"Ja. Ja. Laß mich in Ruhe."_

_He couldn't understand, but it hurt. The dismissiveness. His cheeks felt hot and his nose itched as he stared up at the door._

_"Ich werde hier bleiben."_

_He took the blanket and pulled it over his shoulders, sitting with his back against the door. The sky outside turned gray as the sun started to rise._

_It was cold._

* * *

_It was cold._

_His feet were barely covered by a ratty pair of too-small shoes. He looked down at them, unsure whether he should take them off and risk his toes freezing off or keep them on and just settle with discomfort. He had been walking for a while, despite trying to go a different way, he had no real control, just like those other dreams. Instead, he settled along for the ride._

_It was a city with bridges and boats going every which way. There were so few people, it felt lonely. People gave him strange looks. Some looked sad, others hostile. He just kept to himself, hugging the fabric of his jacket tighter._

_"Veh. Fratello… Dove sei andato?"_

_His fingernails were pale with a tinge of blue. Blowing into his hands did little to actually help though. They almost hurt. Everything hurt._

_"Are you okay?"_

_It was almost like whiplash, how fast his head snapped up. He stiffened, the older teen looking down at him from under a hood, his skin was so pale it was like snow. It was his eyes though, so haunting. So damn familiar._

_His face changed, something akin to hurt, "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm not gonna hurt you. Ah, shit … "_

_'What makes you think he understands English?'_

_"You probably can't understand me."_

_"I-I speak English," he felt his lips move, almost like an afterthought._

_The teen blinked once and then smiled almost apologetically, "Ah, sorry. Are you alone?"_

_"I'm waiting."_

_"Waiting?"_

_His head nodded. "I'm waiting… f-for mi fratello."_

_He knelt down, pulling off the heavy jacket as he did so. Underneath was a familiar uniform. "How long have you been waiting? You look frozen solid."_

_'Please don't say that.'_

_He startled, though it was only him and not whomever he was being. He hadn't heard another's thoughts before._

_"H-hey, don't cry." He had put the jacket around them, it was still warm. It smelt like chestnuts._

_"I-I'm-."_

_"Gilbert!" a female voice interrupted him, jarring both of them. He craned to look over the teen's shoulder to see a pretty girl. A familiar girl._

_She wore the school uniform, black leggings under the red skirt and a green scarf around her neck. "There you are, bastard. Why did you leave?! I- oh."_

_"I was just going to look around, Liza. Holy shit!" he barked back, though not particularly malicious. He spared a glance at the familiar stranger, his emotions too hard to read. He merely looked annoyed, but it didn't feel right._

_"Are you bullying a kid?" a younger Elizabeta Héderváry demanded. Her pretty brown hair was in a low ponytail, her bangs too short to reach and framing her face in a messy way._

_Gilbert tsked his tongue, standing up and moving away. He must have been cold, but he played it off as just crossing his arms. "Screw you."_

_She ignored him, too busy staring at them. She looked surprised for a moment, then smiled a smile he knew all too well. Pity. It stung. "Hey little guy. What's your name?"_

_"... F-Feliciano."_

_"Are you all by yourself?"_

_"He says he's waiting for someone. 'Fratello'."_

_She knelt down where Gilbert had been just a couple minutes ago, giving the albino a snide look before ignoring him again. "Where is your brother?"_

_Sadness washed over him, confusion, fear. "I-I don't know."_

_She took his hands in one of her's, wiping at his cheeks with the other. She was so warm. "Hey, shhhh. It's okay."_

_"I don't think he has anywhere to go." Gilbert spoke again from somewhere he couldn't see. Why did he want to see him?_

_Elizabeta smiled, "Hey, do you want to stay with us? We'll help you find your brother."_

_"Y-you will?" He looked up, glancing between the two of them._

_Gilbert opened his mouth but she cut him off, "Yeah, we will. Come on Feliciano, let's get you warmed up."_

_She helped him to his feet, holding his cold hand._

_"I feel bad too, but we got a job to do." They were speaking in German._

_"I'm the Meister in charge, Gilbert."_

_"And what if we can't find his brother in between hunting down a harvesting witch? What are we gonna do with him then?"_

_"Take him with us."_

_"Wha-!?"_

_"He's like us, I can see his soul form."_

_They both fell silent and he turned to look up between them, absolutely oblivious. A gloved hand came down on his head affectionately. "Yeah," Gilbert smiled almost tiredly, "We'll help you out."_

_He stared into those eyes a moment, everything around him seemed to disappear._

It wasn't fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such a short chapter after a terribly long wait. So some of you read the first draft and by, like, 2 am I figured I really hated it and deleted it, so here is the revision that feels better and more like a real story. Hopefully you agree with me. Also, no, German nor Italian are languages I know very well, so this is me really shooting in the dark. If there are mistakes, please feel free to correct them and I'll go back to do so.


	8. 0.08: Tales of Entwined Souls

"You know it wasn't your fault."

"That doesn't change how I feel," Alfred bemoaned, his head on the table. Matthew had already left to wherever he usually disappeared to, probably the library. His breakfast was cold and, for once, he didn't even feel like eating. "I should have said no."

"Well, you didn't," Arthur frowned over his cup of morning tea, "So what now? Are you just going to sit here and pity yourself o-?"

"That was the idea," the American interrupted.

Arthur eyed him dangerously. " _Or_ , you can take this as a learning experience."

Compunctious cornflower orbs gazed sullenly back. Finding no pity in his companion, Alfred simply rolled away so his forehead rested on the tabletop, hiding his face. "He pushed himself too far, I'm sure he's hurt worse than anything I ever did."

"That would require Feliciano to have used more energy in his transformation than you. Do you really think he could manage that?"

There was silence, Alfred not sure how to respond to that statement. He didn't want to admit that was even a possibility, his pride wouldn't let him. Even still, he didn't want to minimize anything either. He hadn't actually been able to see Feliciano, but partial transformations that weren't properly handled could damage the physical body, hence why he usually tried to play it safe, despite how Gilbert mocked him. Chewing the dry flakes on his bottom lip, he finally lifted his head, pushing away from the table.

"I'm gonna go out for a bit."

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but the boy had already left the room. The front door closed, leaving the blonde alone. He sighed, placing the teacup down, "Cowards, the both of you, running from your problems like that'll make them go away."

* * *

" _Beilschmidt!"_

Gilbert jolted out of his daze, straightening as he looked up at the angry chinese man. He really didn't need to deal with this right now, he just wanted to get back-.

"Don't ignore me Beilschmidt. Two of our students could be seriously harmed because of your negligence," Yao snipped. Despite his temper, or maybe because, his voice remained even but cold. His face was too composed. It was probably worse than being yelled at, not that the albino could care either way, he was too busy tearing himself up over it. Nothing Yao could say, no matter how inaccurate, could make him feel any worse.

"I'm not," he sighed, rubbing his forefinger against his brow to soothe the stress headache that had come to settle permanently right there. "Just… Is that all? I have to get back to the infirmary."

"What am I going to do with you? Tell me, how should I deal with this?"

The German actually looked his age for once. He hadn't been his usual self for a while, but he still seemed okay. Then this happened.

Glassy wine-coloured eyes finally opened, his expression unreadable. "I don't know, just can it wait until they wake up?"

Yao sighed. He couldn't even stay mad at this broken thing. "I know your history with Feliciano makes this hard on you, but punishing yourself like this-."

"It isn't just Feli."

Yao blinked, stammering to a stop mid-sentence as Gilbert's body language crumpled in further on itself. "I-."

"That Meister is my little brother."

* * *

Alfred didn't care where he was going. It was an island after all; wasn't like he could go very far anyway. It was a prison all of a sudden; no longer the escape from the rest of the world, it had become much too small. Walking wasn't helping with the suffocating feeling, it was catching up. Alfred found himself walking faster, then jogging. He left the paths, sprinting into the trees blindly, the dark hands of guilt just out of reach of him.

' _My soul must be a mess.'_

He ran straight ahead, a low-hanging branch swiping his cheek as he did so. It left a hot, stinging line across his face.

' _I made a-.'_

He staggered as a rock rolled underfoot, almost meeting the ground. Screwing his eyes shut, he barely maintained balance, running harder.

" _That nasty ego of yours is going to get you in trouble."_

" _You call it a magnetic personality, I call it thinly veiled insecurity."_

" _You really don't understand how lucky you are. That's what makes you worrisome."_

His eyes stung behind their lids. Frustration, regret, fear.

' _Mistake.'_

Blue irises cracked open, half-blurred by stubborn tears. His ears were pounding with blood, he hadn't heard the crash of waves against rock. Alfred dug his foot in, trying to stop, but even he knew it was hopeless. The forward momentum catching up, it was like being shoved, falling forward, he reached out to grab something, anything. Nobody would even know where to find him.

The landing was relatively soft and surprisingly brief; so much so that he instinctively propped himself up for air than actually acknowledging he didn't just throw himself off a cliff.

"Oh my," a startled little voice practically squeaked. Alfred couldn't see much of anything however. Swiping a hand over his face, powdered snow rained from his glasses, leaving behind droplets on the half-steamed lenses. A brown and beige figure stood a ways away in the clearing.

Snow.

Crawling to his knees, Alfred stared around him dazed. Evergreens and the smell of pine replaced the warm-loving cherry blossoms and the thick ocean air. He hadn't seen snow in over two years and the slow creeping chill was reassuring him this wasn't some hallucination.

Did the afterlife have snow?

"How did you get here?" the blurry figure asked, sounding just as shocked as he felt.

The only dry part of him was the back of his shirt as he removed his glasses and awkwardly twisted the article to clean them off. "I, uh…. I ran."

A tall teen with purple eyes gaped at him, a long scarf around his neck and sandy hair tousled gently by an icy breeze. He wore a knee-length overcoat and boots to ward off the cold, but the part of his pants that was visible were blue checkered, like his own.

"But how could you pass through my door?"

"Door? I-!" Turning to where he came from. Trees. Snow. His arm rose numbly, fighting through a space of dense air that resisted a moment before blooming open. Snatching it back, holding his hand to his chest, Alfred could just make out the cherry blossoms as they glided to the ground before it vanished.

"Holy shit. I thought only the Keeper could do that."

* * *

How had it come to this? The streetlamps flickered on overhead as the sun dipped below the horizon and the streets were filled with students of all ages and class. Normally he wouldn't be out here without much prodding from his roommate, but the disturbing lack of the teenager was what had drawn him out to begin with.

"In the end it doesn't matter," he sneered to himself under his breath, trudging through the crowd. Alfred never missed dinner. Nor did he miss a chance to pester Arthur to go with him.

* * *

" _Where's Alfred?" Matthew asked, shrugging out of his blazer and hanging it by the door._

" _Out was the only location I was informed of," Arthur snipped bitterly. He was rather bitter at them both since neither could bring themselves to even try and function normally. And this was him speaking. "Where have you been?"_

_The bespectacled boy frowned, practically tiptoeing around the older blonde to get to the refrigerator. "Talking with Instructor Adnan?" he offered. He probably meant it as a statement, but the way he pitched the end of it made it sound like a question. "What's going on?"_

" _Just another day in the life of an unappreciated therapist." If one could sip tea indignantly, that was exactly what he did. Lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed at the knee, he radiated frustration._

" _I don't und-."_

_There was a loud clatter as the cup he held was slammed against the table. It was more a miracle it didn't just shatter as the auburn liquid geysered before droplets splattered across the tabletop. "Why don't you tell him?"_

_Matthew stared at him blankly for a beat before closing in on himself, looking at the floor. "Because… he-."_

" _Because his family looks so perfect, you can't bring yourself to mess it up? Yet you sit here day in and day out resenting his mere existence because you just can't get over it!"_

_Hurt pooled in his amethyst eyes, splashing over him like ice water. The cold feeling of knowing one has gone too far settling just above his stomach._

" _I'm trying."_

* * *

"I've spent too much bloody time with the brat." His fingers pressed firmly in his forehead, rubbing circles into the constant ache that had settled there. "Becoming too brash."

" _It isn't your fault, Arthur,"_ the little voice spoke into his ear, causing him to jump and look around fervently.

"Gelsey," hissing at the faerie, "There are Meisters here!"

" _I just wanted to tell you not to beat yourself up. There is nothing wrong in caring."_

"So you risk both our lives for that?"

She didn't respond as he suddenly ran into something, staggering back a few steps in confusion. It couldn't have been more than a bump, but the Englishman felt a lingering pressure as if they had just collided at high speed. "Pardon me, I wasn't paying attention."

The taller student didn't respond, forcing him to stay until his apology at least got some acknowledgement. They stared at each other, an uncertain chill growing in the pit of Arthur's stomach as he noted the Meister patch on his sleeve, fighting the urge to pale as thoughts of Gelsey hiding in his shirt collar rose to the surface. They were basically the same height, a centimeter or two off perhaps.

"I'm … sorry?"

The older teen blinked rapidly, coming out from wherever he had been, "No, it's alright."

Arthur stared a moment longer, his arm still tingling faintly before stepping back and away, watching the blonde with his heavy French accent follow him with his gaze until they lost each other in the dinner-going crowd. Tearing off from the main road into the wooded area until the lights were too distant to reach him, he leaned heavily against a tree. Clammy hands pulled at each other numbly, trying to warm them up as he released a slow, wavering breath.

"Bloody hell was that?"

* * *

_The understanding of Soul Wavelengths is similar to that of neurons, the physical body the protective sheath around the raw fibres that make up a being. When Weapons and Meisters interact, they communicate in much the same way, never directly coming into contact with each other's wavelength, merely communicating and transferring energies between the barrier that is their physical forms. In the case of two Soul Wavelengths meeting directly, both fell unconscious from the shock. Upon waking, both mentioned an experience of memory-sharing and altered perceptions in their wakeful state. Eventually these sensations fade to normal and do not appear to leave any permanent damage._

* * *

Roderich entered his office, absent-mindedly turning on the light before noticing the figure sitting on the edge of the bed where Feliciano laid sleeping. He knew she was here, had been for several weeks already, they just never crossed paths. Or rather, they intentionally avoided each other.

"Do you think the same thing happened to them?" Elizaveta asked, more seeing him from her peripherals than sensing his approach. She could see them, between the beds, they were still tangled.

The Austrian looked between her and the peaceful faces of the two students, "It's the same symptoms. If they're anything like you and Gilbert, they should wake up soon."

A pregnant silence grew between them, words unsaid hovering just out of reach. The very real fact that this was where they were. It was very different than what she had thought they'd be eight years ago, and it was disappointing.

"I'm proud of you," she finally managed, finding something that wasn't a lie. Emerald finally met amethyst with a small smile that felt a little too tight. "This does suit you better than hunting, doesn't it?"

"It does," Roderich agreed, finally moving away from the open door, letting it slowly fall shut as he made his way to his desk, "I have to say however, I never imagined you teaching. You never liked being in one place for long."

She looked away, to the floorboards, to the children in the bed, to the ceiling. "You're right. But the choice isn't mine it seems."

"Elizaveta?"

"I hope you don't mind," she changed the subject, the sad little smile widening just a bit with a hint of mischief as she held up a small bottle she must have stolen from his cabinet, "But I need to borrow these."

"As long as you get him to sleep, I won't say a word." They both relaxed visibly, the quiet between words not so heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is soooooo much here, damn. And if you all are wondering, YES, the prologue is almost over. THANK FUCK! I like all this character building and all, but holy jesus, this is just setting the stage. This hasn't even really touched on the main plot! God, I'm excited!


End file.
